Human Anatomy
by Lucifer Rosemaunt
Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts except for the one you really want.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.

Warning(s): slash (that's homosexual content for those of you who don't know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: Well, since it was a holiday, I was able to put a little extra work into writing. This is what happens.

Story note: The one word prompts come after the drabble-ish because there's one that's just too much fun to spoil. (That's for you, dirty-minded readers.) The rest are pretty obvious since I usually literally focus on that body part.

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Human Anatomy

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By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

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Raoul personally didn't like to have his hair very long. He rather found it too much trouble to maintain. The summertime was the worst because it made it that much hotter for him. Yet, here he was at the peak of summer with his hair longer than normal. He did have to admit that he could hardly tell that the sun was heating up Paris to an almost unbearable temperature since he was sitting in Erik's home, waiting for him again.

But, his hair kept falling in front of his face; sometimes he didn't remember why he kept it long in the first place. He was busy trying to tame it so that he could put it in a ponytail when a hand stopped him. Erik grabbed the ribbon that Raoul held with his teeth, pocketing it.

Indignantly, Raoul let his hair fall from his hands to try and take it back. "Erik. Give it back."

Smirking, Erik leaned forward to run his fingers through Raoul's hair, grabbing it gently behind his head to pull him forward into a kiss.

Oh, yeah. Raoul smiled into the kiss. That was why.

o.o. hair .o.o (wc: 190)

Erik was moaning and Raoul wasn't sure if he wanted to continue, especially considering where they were. It wasn't like Erik was making any effort to be quiet.

"Right there. Yeah."

Raoul didn't stop, but he did pause to look around, really expecting to see people gathering around all because Erik couldn't keep his mouth shut. He couldn't believe that _he _was the one with misgivings about where and what they were doing. After all, Erik was the one that wanted to keep their relationship a secret. At this rate, everyone in the opera house was going to find out.

Hearing a dissatisfied moan, Raoul found that he couldn't stop his ministrations. Though he would complain to Erik later, he rather enjoyed the sounds he made and the pleasure he could give to the older man. Erik leaned into his touch and urged Raoul on with another moan. From his vantage point, he couldn't quite see Erik's face, but his mind more than supplied a visual image.

"Should we be doing this here?" Raoul finally asked when Erik let out another moan that seemed to echo through the theatre. It sounded obscene to his ears and he couldn't help his reaction to it. He hoped the blush wasn't too evident on his cheeks.

Erik opened his eyes, glancing at him. "What's wrong with my box?"

Raoul considered his answer before deciding being up front would be best. "You're loud."

"What?" Erik actually looked confused, as though he really didn't know he was moaning loudly.

Raoul couldn't believe it. If Erik didn't know, then they definitely couldn't keep doing this here. They'd be caught for certain. Shaking his head, Raoul stated, "I'm no longer giving you massages here."

o.o. shoulders .o.o (dirty-minded people, wc: 287)

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End Chapter 01

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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: Only two for now. I'll probably add more when I have the time to write more. I'm off to start writing Reluctantly Willing now.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.

Warning(s): slash (that's homosexual content for those of you who don't know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: As an apology for posting Reluctantly Willing ch10 up late. Here's another entry to the human anatomy ficlet collection. This one won't be updated regularly. It's a whenever I have extra time sort of fic.

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Human Anatomy

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

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It was distracting really.

Raoul was beginning to think it was better when the ghost only spoke to him from behind walls and mirrors and from behind those secret passages he was beginning to wish didn't exist even if they were good for this one thing.

However, after so much time working together and working out that tentative truce, Raoul had been the one to request that they share a meal at least once a week, to speak over business as gentlemen. That's why the ghost was currently on his estate, in his home, and sitting at his table, speaking as though he didn't know how distracting his mouth could be.

Raoul nodded and watched raptly as the ghost brought the glass up to his lips to drink some wine. A tongue peaked out to lick a stray drop and Raoul found himself mirroring the action, wishing fervently that it weren't his lips he was licking. That thought alone made him blush. He couldn't help but wonder when this obsession started but the ghost's lips were so fascinating. Raoul wanted to know what they felt like.

"Vicomte, do you agree?"

Raoul blinked away from the man's mouth to look up at his eyes. He hadn't heard a word that the man had said, but now he was being looked at expectantly. He answered confidently, "Yes, of course."

The ghost retorted, "You weren't listening again."

"I was," Raoul replied immediately, a little too defensively.

The ghost raised an eyebrow and those lips pursed for a moment before he replied, "'Yes of course' we'll tell the managers we're having an illicit relationship?"

Raoul's eyes widened. "What?" His voice raised an octave and he cleared his throat. The man was smirking and Raoul found his heart pounding in his chest. "Illicit relationship?"

"That's what you just agreed to do," he clarified.

"Oh," was the only reply Raoul could think of. He pulled at his collar and looked around the room. It suddenly felt hot in the room.

"That's what this is, isn't it? We're basically teaming up against the managers," Erik explained, not giving away the fact that he saw the blush on Raoul's cheeks. In fact, he'd seen the first blush when he'd just been talking about the orchestra.

Raoul bit his bottom lip and wouldn't meet the ghost's eyes. The thought of them in an illicit relationship made his brain stall. "It won't happen again," he said weakly when he felt the man's gaze too distinctly.

The ghost grinned and took another sip of his wine making sure to lick his lips after.

o.o. mouth .o.o (wc:429)

"That was a nice welcome home," Raoul breathed out as he rolled to his side, squirming a bit to find a comfortable position on the bed.

Erik easily filled the space behind him, his body conforming to Raoul's position. He lazily traced patterns on Raoul's skin, watching where his fingers touched. He replied distractedly, "You were gone for two weeks."

Raoul nodded, already dozing off. He'd just barely come home almost an hour ago. He had arrived from a business trip one day early just to surprise Erik even though in Raoul's opinion, he didn't deserve it. It _was _Erik's fault after all that they had had to be apart for so long. He simply hadn't been able to deny the appeal of arriving a day early. He'd forced the carriage driver to continue far past what was normal. It had definitely been worth it. Now, he was more exhausted than when he first arrived and was completely ready to go to sleep.

He was dozing when Erik's voice jerked him awake.

"You have a tan." His voice was contemplative and a little displeased.

Raoul knew this was going to happen, and he'd done so explicitly to get his revenge on Erik. He just wished they didn't have to have the conversation right now. He hm'd his response, hoping that Erik would let him sleep.

Erik leaned away from him and Raoul immediately missed his warmth. He woke up little more, sighing. He paid closer attention to the trail Erik's fingers left across his shoulders. He closed his eyes and could just imagine Erik's focused gaze taking everything in as his fingers continued their path down his side. Raoul found it rather soothing. It would have lulled him to sleep if it weren't for the fact that he could almost feel Erik's scrutiny on his skin.

"I had time to sun bathe," Raoul commented nonchalantly.

Erik's fingers trailed lower, past his hip and rested on his upper thigh, his thumb paying particular interest near Raoul's hipbone.

"Again?" Raoul asked suggestively. He was tired, but if Erik wanted to it wouldn't be a problem. It would also distract the man a little longer. Raoul wasn't fully awake to appreciate his reactions.

Erik looked at the smooth, flawless skin, the familiar feel of it beneath his fingers that he'd been deprived of for two whole weeks because he'd refused to go on a trip he saw to be worthless. At first, he'd thought it was merely the candlelight, but even in the candlelight, Erik would know the color of Raoul's skin. He knew every facet of Raoul; of course he would be able to tell when the blonde had been sunbathing.

However, what he didn't expect was the color of the skin around Raoul's privates to have been evenly tanned as well.

"You have an _even_ tan," Erik repeated as his hand strayed to caress the tempting skin before him.

Raoul rolled onto his back just so Erik could see just how even his tan actually was. He said with a smirk, "You're the one who refused to come along."

o.o. skin .o.o (wc:518)

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End Chapter 02

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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: Two more. Uh, I don't know if you get the skin one, but that one made me laugh when I thought of it. Can you imagine Raoul's method of revenge?


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.

Warning(s): slash (that's homosexual content for those of you who don't know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: Okay, this chapter is dedicated to Fanastixx who had a birthday a few days ago. Happy Birthday!

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Human Anatomy

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

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Erik wasn't sure watching Raoul was a good idea any more.

Watching him before had been a necessity. He couldn't let the boy run free in his opera house when he'd been uncertain of his intentions. No one was really allowed such liberties in his home, why would the new patron be any different? So, it had simply been natural.

Raoul was no longer just the new patron though. He was _his _patron. Erik didn't have to keep such a close eye on him because the boy willingly came to him at night and had proven quite headstrong in his decisions. More importantly, he was willing to face the consequences of his actions without fear; he was willing to face Erik without fear. That steady, open gaze was becoming addictive – which was one of the newer reasons he kept watching Raoul. The blonde had a talent for looking straight through the darkness, directly to him. That gaze was always accompanied by a knowing smile, one that Erik knew was reserved only for him, one that said "I know you're watching, and I don't mind."

He shouldn't keep watching him though. It was disrupting his normal life. As though he really had a choice. It shouldn't have been this difficult to leave him alone, but if anything, the compulsion had grown even stronger.

He wanted to force Raoul to look only at him, at all times. He never wanted his attention to stray, never for too long since Erik felt bereft without it now. Seeing his Vicomte speaking to others in his own home was an outright insult, one that he'd been forced to witness too many times already.

And now, another gala was being held. Raoul was surrounding by throngs of people, beautiful people with less repulsive pasts and faces. They were full of life, walking around without having to hide who they really were while Erik was forced to hide behind a column and watch them, watched as people so openly touched what was rightfully his. He held himself back by sheer force of will, but that was slowly disappearing. He could no longer justify why he wasn't killing every single one of those people who had taken Raoul's attention away from him, who made him smile and laugh, who made his eyes light up.

Just as he was about to leave his hiding spot and somehow make it across the large room to kill that one particular woman who seemed to have taken permanent residence attached to Raoul's side, Raoul looked up, ignoring said targeted woman even though she was practically pawing at him for his attention and past said throng of people just to look at him. He didn't just look at him though, he pinned him with that open gaze and knowing smile.

Erik froze and held his breath, unable to do anything else. When Raoul was forced to once again pay attention to the guests, Erik slumped deeper into the shadows. It_ was _still necessary to watch him. He had to be vigilant for he knew that one day, the boy's attention would linger away from him permanently.

o.o. eyes .o.o (wc:523)

"What do you think you're doing?" Raoul yelled.

"I'm just telling you…"

"No," Raoul cut him off, "You're not telling me anything. You're trying to control my life."

Erik scoffed but didn't say anything. It was the truth after all. He hadn't done it with the intention of controlling the Vicomte's life; he'd simply been trying to keep Raoul in _his _life.

Shaking his head, Raoul couldn't believe it. He didn't even know if he _loved_ the man yet, but he thought he'd been willing to find out. He wasn't so sure any more. "You just can't do that."

The ghost was tempted to say "I can"' but decided to keep that fact to himself.

Raoul didn't know how many times he had tried to convince Erik that he'd been doing something wrong. The ghost had so many good qualities; he was loyal, dedicated, and at times, he could be so romantic; that was until he went too far. That was what Erik did. He took qualities that were supposed to be good and twisted them. Erik _really_ didn't think he was doing something wrong, and Raoul just couldn't deal with that anymore. It was too much. He couldn't handle it, not after he'd thought they'd been making some sort of progress. Erik had been less possessive nowadays, less stifling, but apparently, he'd been mistaken.

"That's it. That's the last time," Raoul stated firmly. The ghost simply stared at him calmly. His silence wasn't that uncommon, but usually when they were arguing, he'd eagerly join in the yelling. Raoul was more than a little surprised that he wasn't fighting harder for him to stay, considering how controlling the man could be. In all honesty, it was a little disappointing, a little anti-climactic. He turned to leave, and while he was expecting Erik to say something, he wasn't expecting this.

"You can turn your back on me," Erik stated. He still looked calm, but his voice was rough, eyes deathly serious.

Raoul paused and looked at him in confusion.

His voice was quiet as he finished, "Just never leave me."

Raoul wasn't sure if it was a request or a threat.

o.o. back .o.o (wc:360)

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End Chapter 03

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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: No dirtiness in this one. Shocking, I know. Less of Erik's POV in the second one. I like what little he said though.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.

Warning(s): slash (that's homosexual content for those of you who don't know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: Check out the calendar and my blog for information of my return; uh, links found on my profile page.

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Human Anatomy

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

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Raoul held his hands up, scrutinizing them. What once was smooth and mostly unblemished skin was now marred with scrapes, bruises, and burns, with the fleeting memory of scars already faded and ones that refused to go away. There was a piece of his knuckle that he was certain would never grow back, and straightening several of his fingers now made him wince. He didn't particularly mind, simply finding a new way to determine how his day would fare by flexing his fingers to gauge the amount of pain he was in. It was a good day today, at least, a better one.

Turning them to look at his palms, he noted the new calluses. It wasn't as though his palms had been completely smooth before, he mentally defended; he'd had fencing lessons all his life after all. There were scratches beginning to heal here as well, but surprisingly fewer. They hardly detracted from the lines he'd long since memorized the meanings of.

He had a mild fixation with hands, particularly his hands, ever since he'd had his fortune read to him once as a child. Philippe had thought it would be interesting and Raoul hadn't known anything about fortunes or palm readers before that moment.

The woman had told Philippe he'd be a bachelor for his entire life, a fact which his brother hadn't particularly known how to react to. In fact, Raoul wasn't even sure if Philippe had even been completely listening to the woman as she explained what the lines meant, if Philippe had even believed her.

Raoul, on the other hand, had listened and watched her every movement closely. He remembered the lines that her cold, bony fingers had traced as he held his hand out hesitatingly, worriedly. He'd wondered how the woman could know his future by simply looking at his palms, but there had been something about her gaze that made him believe then as a child and even now as an adult.

He'd been told that he was meant for something truly great if only he was persistent enough. If he managed to overcome large trials and obstacles, he'd obtain the greatest gift of his life. That prediction was never far from his thoughts. He'd done everything as best as he could, thinking that each trial was the one that he'd been told, the one that would be worth all his effort.

So far, nothing. Nothing except hard work.

Well, perhaps not 'nothing'. It had brought him to this opera house where he was facing his most difficult trial yet. Raoul was almost absolutely certain that this would be the moment; this would be the time that his persistence paid out. What that gift was just yet, he wasn't certain. He simply refused to give in.

He traced a particularly deep scar in his right hand. It followed the line of fate, extending it further down his palm. Sighing, he couldn't help but think of someone else's hands and wonder what that fortune teller might have said about them.

Hands that he'd never really seen before but now thought of constantly. Hands that he imagined were cold to the touch, rough, and more callused than his own were becoming. Hands that created such beautiful music. Hands that held and hurt, destroyed and killed, but hands that were apparently capable of so much more. He knew they were, had heard from Christine in stories that made him more jealous than worried. He wanted to see those hands be gentle and coaxing for himself.

However, those hands were often wicked. They built traps, traps that seemed to always appear in the paths Raoul tried no matter how much he thought he was choosing contrary to the obvious. He'd fallen in water, tripped, slid, crawled, climbed, and was ensnared more than once because of the creations that those hands built.

He knew the ghost was simply playing with him; the ghost already knew his intentions. How that was possible when Raoul himself didn't know what drove him to search new ways to get to the cellars of the opera house was a mystery. All he knew was that one day, the sudden need to ask to see the man's hands, to see if the lines that crossed them were similar to his own or to Philippe's had arisen and Raoul could think of nothing else but to listen to the urge, the prediction repeating ever louder in his head.

o.o hands o.o (wc:743)

They'd been in this position once before, only in reverse and it was just now with Erik straddling Raoul, his thighs tensing to keep Raoul's thrashing to a minimum, his rear firmly settled on Raoul's own thighs, leaning forward and pinning him to the ground did he begin to realize why the blonde had released his arms as though he'd been burned, flushed a rather noticeable shade of red before scrambling off him.

They'd been arguing then, if Erik remembered correctly. Raoul had, of course, managed to catch him off guard – the only way he would have been able to pin him down in the first place. Erik had been too shocked and angry to do much of anything, and before he could even begin to struggle, Raoul had gotten up, refused to meet his eyes, muttered some words of apology before rushing out of his home, in fact, out of the opera house completely. He hadn't quite known what to think, but now that he was keeping Raoul immobile by his weight, Erik couldn't help but smirk as realization was quick to settle.

Raoul only struggled for a moment before he let out a sound, something caught between a moan and a whimper but altogether pained, before becoming completely still. His hands were in fists as he tried to calm his breathing. Blonde wisps of hair had fallen in front of his face. Erik watched as the hair floated up and down with his tense breaths. Raoul was doing his best to stare at anything but him by this point; yet, the blush persisted.

Interesting. He'd found a way to calm Raoul down. Perhaps not calm, since Raoul was still tense beneath him; Erik could distinctly feel every motion that he made. But, he was now acquiescent and that was something to mentally store for future use.

Releasing Raoul's wrists slowly, a part of Erik already knew that Raoul wouldn't try anything. It was then though that their eyes met, the confusion evident in Raoul's expression. As Erik sat back fully, Raoul bit into his lower lip. Erik could easily tell that he was struggling to keep quiet. It was a shame since he was intrigued as to what new sound would come out.

Raoul lowered his arms slowly, deliberately. Placing them on his stomach, his hands trembling, he changed his mind not knowing where he should let them rest. He took a deep breath, holding Erik's gaze, almost challengingly, before placing his hands just above Erik's knees.

His hands were warm, unbelievably so, but Erik gave no reaction.

Swallowing with some difficulty, Raoul said, "Get off."

More plea than order, Erik didn't even consider it. After all, who was Raoul to order him around when he obviously had the advantage, and definitely not after he'd come to the realization that Raoul had forced them into a rather intimate position previously without his knowledge.

"You," Erik shifted forward a bit and Raoul let out a shuddering breath, his hands reflexively tightening on Erik's legs, "don't get to order me to do anything."

o.o thighs o.o (wc:513)

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End Chapter 04

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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: Gosh, hand fetish anyone? And man, Erik on top. Doms, what to do with them?


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.

Warning(s): slash (that's homosexual content for those of you who don't know); adult-adult concept

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: I'm jumping around on these fics too much. Secret – Insecurities was supposed to be a ficlet here, but it got too long and wanted to be its own story.

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Human Anatomy

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By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

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Due to Erik's past, he was well acquainted with death, knew death intimately because he _was _death, wearing death's face and for a large part of his life dealing it out. The Punjab lasso had been his weapon of choice because there was something about watching that last breath leave the body that inevitably drew his attention. The heaving chest, the wheezing, and the way the body shuddered with effort.

It was absolutely captivating.

However, he tried to leave death behind when he moved to Paris. He tried to forget everything about that because he needn't kill any longer, but he couldn't deny that his new fixation with singing had similarities to those last few seconds before death – the controlled release of air until the point of near panic was merely an acceptable and nonlethal form of what he'd been obsessed with in the past. He'd come to realize that it wasn't so much about the last breath as it was the struggle to breathe, the intake of air simply a physical action of taking in life. He reveled in that struggle and desired to experience it himself; yet, he found that as much as he tried to drive himself to the same desperation for air as his victims, it wasn't the same.

His daily routine included walking through every floor of the opera house; it was miles to cover but he never truly tired. He would climb the countless stairs without running out of breath. He barely exerted himself when climbing the ropes to reach the catwalks high above the stage. Singing was just as easy as speaking. Honestly, few things he ever did required him to exert much effort, so he'd been forced to suppress his desire to be able to reach that same point. It had been pointless to keep trying. He'd actually managed to suppress the whole obsession in fact, Christine providing a much needed diversion.

Then, the Vicomte came into his life, and Erik immediately knew he needed to see the blonde with a lasso around his neck. He thought about it constantly from the first moment of seeing him; he planned it, dreamt it. He wanted to see the Vicomte struggle and pant, completely helpless against him. He wanted to see his mouth ajar and hear those gasping sounds that he so relished. Once when Raoul had been given a tour, he had gasped in surprise at some portrait in the opera house, and at that moment, Erik knew he wouldn't be able to kill him, just because he knew he'd want to be able to hear that sound over and over again.

What he hadn't expected was that Raoul would be able to drive _him _to that point of breathless panic. His blood pounded loudly in his ears, his hands almost felt numb, and his throat felt raw with every intake of air. Still he pushed against Raoul, surged against him, rallied to the point where he couldn't breathe deeply enough, where he could barely take in the next breath. His vision swam for a few moments and Erik would have moaned at the sensation if he'd been able to. Instead, it came as shallow, choked gasps before he forced himself to take deeper breaths so that he could continue his swordfight with Raoul.

It was their first actual physical encounter and Erik hadn't wanted it to end, regardless of the fact that they were in a graveyard. He glared angrily after them when Christine led them away. He couldn't remain that angry though; he was still riding the addictive sensation, focusing on the rise and fall of his own chest and the burn in his throat. He hadn't been able to suppress the anticipation of his next meeting with the Vicomte.

o.o lungs o.o (wc:629)

"Well, hello, Vicomte."

The predatory smile that Raoul was greeted with put him ill at ease. It probably didn't help that he was already at a disadvantage. His clothes were soaking wet from his swim after falling into that trap, and he could barely suppress his shivering. Grabbing onto the portcullis in an attempt to stop the shaking, he tried to reign in his annoyance at the man before him, a man who was dry and currently goading him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?" Erik didn't bother to ask him how he'd even found his way down to his home alive. He rather expected some betrayal from Christine or Madame Giry. He would deal with them later; right now, he had to deal with his visitor.

Gritting his teeth, Raoul took a deep breath and hoped he wouldn't stutter from the cold. "I was counseled to speak with you."

Erik sneered before grinning once more. "Oh," he sauntered into the lake, the water rising up to his knees and Raoul was almost jealous that he showed no outward reaction from the cold. He knew that if he wasn't holding the iron bars that separated them, he would be hugging himself in some attempt to keep warm. Then again, the ghost was only partially wet. Raoul didn't know how long he'd been swimming, but it was certainly long enough that his joints were protesting at every movement. In fact, they were protesting against the fact that he was _standing_.

As the opera ghost approached, self-preservation actually insisted he step away.

"From my protégé, I'm sure."

Raoul stayed where he was. "Indeed," he said, grinning himself. He knew that this one fact, he could actually hold over the older man, "Christine was rather adamant that we speak this over like gentlemen."

"Like gentlemen?" Erik scoffed. "Shall we have a duel, then?"

Raoul pulled a face at that. "No. Speaking of course."

Erik scrutinized him for a moment, almost not believing him. He took in the now see-through shirt and the pants that were stuck like a second skin. The Vicomte would be unable to hide any sort of weapon on him, and checking him once over, Erik saw none. He almost couldn't believe Raoul had honestly come without a weapon. Then again, this was _Raoul_, the boy who probably really wanted to talk and wasn't using it as some ruse just to try to hurt him. Raoul violently shivered, the portcullis actually rattling a bit, and he actually started to blush. Erik looked him once over again; this could be interesting. "Oh," he made a dramatic gesture of raising his hands to lift the portcullis. As Raoul warily watched the portcullis, Erik watched him. "It would be rather rude of me to leave you out there, correct?"

Raoul nodded enthusiastically, quickly moving under the portcullis lest the ghost make another gesture and it fall upon him. After that, he didn't even consider any further traps; getting out of the lake sounded too good a prospect at the moment and the ghost letting him do so was enough to put him at ease. He smiled widely. "I'm glad we can agree on this fact."

"On speaking?" Erik asked. He frowned with a disapproving shake of his head, "I rather dislike such 'gentlemen' things."

Frowning, Raoul sloshed out of the water with the ghost close behind him. "What? You'd rather be an animal?" He turned around as he spoke, stumbling backward when he almost ran into the ghost. Tripping on a rock, he would have fallen had Erik not caught his arm, jerking Raoul firmly against him. Raoul stared at him wide-eyed. "You… you're getting wet." When Erik didn't let him go, he added a little hesitantly, afraid that a Punjab lasso was a breath away, "We're not animals."

"Well," Erik smirked. This time the predatory nature of it, as well as Erik's next words, made Raoul's stomach drop and heat rush to his face. "I _do_ bite."

o.o teeth o.o (wc:669)

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End Chapter 05

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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: Warning: Uh… erotic asphyxiation is dangerous. Don't do it. And, I just ruined that scene for myself now; hell, I just ruined _breathing_ for myself.

- I was thinking about making 'teeth' a one-shot as well and keep the prospect of writing more open, but why bother with such things?


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.

Warning(s): slash (that's homosexual content for those of you who don't know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: Long hiatus again for no apparent reason besides life. I don't know what that says about my life that it can just take me away from fanficiton like that. Not the best of situations, that's for certain.

Story note: these are pretty long though as an apology (all I do is apologize to you guys).

o.o.o.o

Human Anatomy

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

The first time Raoul saw Erik's deformity had been in pitch blackness, a darkness so deep that even Erik had admitted he couldn't see. In retrospect, Raoul realized that he had planned it that way more for his good than Raoul's own. That way, he wouldn't be able to see his reaction if, or rather when, he did react.

It was the first time that Raoul had been given permission to touch the older man. Erik had many rules: no interrupting while he was playing the organ, no visiting Christine before or directly after a performance, no speaking to the managers about them, no trying to find him when he obviously didn't want to be found. A lot of things Raoul was forbidden to do. The biggest rule however, was that Raoul was never allowed to touch Erik.

Of course they touched. It was rather inconceivable for them to be in such a relationship and not touch each other, but Raoul was simply receiving, a passive participant in all their physical engagements. Erik had been quite explicit about that particular rule.

Erik initiated all contact.

Raoul couldn't reach out to touch him. He couldn't kiss back with the passion he felt; he could only follow Erik's pace, and if he did respond too eagerly, Erik would simply disappear. Raoul couldn't even put a hand on the older man's shoulder without reprimand, and that first reprimand had been so terrible that there hadn't been a second.

Simply put, Raoul wasn't allowed to reciprocate the way he wanted, the way every instinct of his body and mind told him to respond.

And after all the time that had passed, all the daydreams about being finally able to touch the somehow still mysterious man, Raoul was quickly coming to the realization that his imaginings hadn't been able to skim the surface of what touching Erik would be like. He was simply glad that he'd long since made the decision that when the opportunity arose, he'd take it slow and memorize how it felt to touch him.

So, when Erik grabbed his hand and proceeded to drag him down stairs he hadn't known existed, through tunnels that looked as though they hadn't been used in years, and across cavernous rooms that echoed their steps and chilled Raoul to the bones so that all he could do is shiver as his only anchor in such a strange environment was the equally cold hand gripping his own, Raoul was glad that he hadn't needed to think anything else but _take your time_ when Erik finally did stop and bring his trapped hand up with a harsh order to touch him.

Raoul's hand hovered in the air uncertainly. He wasn't even certain his eyes were open in such a darkness, didn't know if Erik was still indeed in front of him. All he could tell was that in the absence of his vision, he could distinctly feel _himself._ His skin was more sensitive, as though the cold had enveloped him, a second skin upon his own. His ears picked up sounds he was certain he shouldn't be able to hear – at least, once he could focus on something other than his own breathing and heartbeat. There were the phantom noises of animals he didn't even want to begin to think of and thankfully, no sound of footsteps walking away. He could smell the dank rock that surely surrounded them completely and taste the stale air.

He moved his hand a fraction forward, and immediately felt Erik's mask. The cold porcelain, an image easily brought forth in his mind, was the only beacon his eyes, though currently useless, could focus on.

"Go ahead," Erik's disembodied voice roughly prompted.

Raoul didn't allow himself to hesitate. He moved with deliberate slowness, using all his fingers to lightly caress the cold unforgiving material he so often had to face. He could almost feel Erik's tension through it, feel what lay beneath. Once his fingers found the edge of the mask, he raised his other hand to join in his perusal. He was able to easily find the smooth cheek he'd always wanted to touch. He rested the palm of his hand against Erik's cheek, his thumb slowly stroking the corner of Erik's lip. The complete image of Erik's face filtered in through the darkness, making the mask before him less frightening. There was a man beneath that mask. Raoul knew that. He just sometimes forgot. He forgot because he couldn't reach out and touch that man.

With that thought, Raoul forced himself to imagine the rest of Erik's body. There _was _a man, a person beneath his fingers.

It was simply pathetic that Erik was more real now in the darkness than in the candlelight, than in the light of day. He was more _substantial_ when the only image Raoul could see was the one summoned by his mind.

Still slightly afraid of reprimand, Raoul paused before he bravely took the next step and removed the mask. He almost flinched when Erik took it from him – as though Erik had known Raoul wouldn't have taken the time to put it down in fear that Erik would decide in that short time to leave. He didn't voice his appreciation, knowing that any sound would snap the tension that hung between them and he would lose this chance.

Raoul let his fingers fill in the image he feared he would never be able to see. As gently as he could, he skimmed the uneven surface that was Erik's skin, his right hand keeping Erik's face in place while being used as a basis of comparison. Erik's breathing was unsteady and Raoul actually wished he _could _see, wished that he knew whether the leathery skin and varied gouges were blood red or a dull yellow.

He didn't realize he'd been holding his own breath until he was forced to exhale. His fingertips tingled, over-sensitized because of the cold, because of the loss of his sight, because this was _Erik _he was finally touching; Raoul wasn't sure why. Slowly, he touched, mapping the lines of his love's face until the image was burned in his mind, until it wasn't the phantom standing before him. He touched and memorized until all that was left was Erik standing before Raoul.

And when it was just them, he touched until touch became an adoring caress, until Erik stilled Raoul's hands with his own and closed the distance between them.

o.o fingertips o.o (wc:1,073)

Erik nudged Raoul. The only response he received was a groan before that weight settled upon him again.

He was having a little difficulty breathing, what with Raoul laying half atop him. Admittedly, he'd easily fallen asleep in this position, but after the whole night, Erik was beginning to lose feeling on the left half of his body, notably, the half that Raoul was sprawled over, though 'sprawl' might be too generous a word.

"Raoul," Erik whispered, not quite sure if he should be annoyed that Raoul had managed to spend the whole night asleep in the same position. Erik did have to admit it was better than when he moved in his sleep. Then again, since they were sleeping in Erik's home tonight, there wouldn't have been any other way to sleep; there was no space to move around.

But, considering this was the third night in a row that Erik was waking up with half of his body numb, he was beginning to think that this was all part of some elaborate ploy of Raoul's to make getting rid of the coffin Erik's own idea. Which it wasn't.

Raoul had brought it up once. After telling him that 'one has to get used to everything in life, even to eternity,' Raoul had made a pained expression and never thought to bring it up again. Instead, that evening had been the first time Raoul snuck into his bedroom and climbed into the coffin with him. There had been many wayward elbows and knees in sensitive places at first, but they'd eventually managed to find a position they could both comfortably sleep in, relatively speaking.

At the time, Erik hadn't been able to question Raoul's intentions. The blonde had been so adamant on staying the night that words had simply failed him. There had been a look in Raoul's eyes that even the darkness of his home hadn't been able to hide completely. Erik could still picture the look in his mind's eye and no matter how many times he tried to determine what that look meant, he couldn't. Worry perhaps. Fear? But not of Erik, _for_ him instead. It had been as though climbing into that coffin had actually physically pained Raoul, and yet, he could do nothing _but_ climb in. To this day, Erik still hadn't questioned him.

Raoul's breathing had changed, and Erik took a deep breath, straining to look down to watch the blonde head using his chest as a pillow rise and fall as well. It wasn't so hard to imagine that same expression there now even though Erik hadn't seen it since that first time.

Or, he'd stopped looking because he couldn't stand to see Raoul look like that.

"Raoul," Erik pressed his head back down onto the padding, staring at the ceiling. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the lid of the coffin. "I'll get rid of it."

"Get rid of what?" Raoul's answer was immediate though his voice was still a little rough with sleep.

"The coffin."

There was a pause before Raoul asked, "Why?"

And Erik was convinced that he was indeed confused about their topic of conversation. "I…" he actually hesitated. Instead, he asked, "Why have you been sleeping here?"

At the question, Raoul lifted his head, moving so that they could look each other in the eyes; the pressure on Erik's chest eased. He tilted his head, his lips pressed together in worry. "I…" Erik could see his cheeks tinged red, "I wanted… Do you want me to go?" He asked plaintively.

Erik sighed in exasperation and even with Raoul off him, he felt his breathing just as constricted. "No," he said a little too forcefully; Raoul had flinched at his tone of voice even while he looked relieved at his response. Erik's voice was even when he continued, "I just want to know why this is the third night you've slept here."

Erik's hand strayed to Raoul's face, fingers trying to smooth the worry lines away.

Raoul leaned into his touch, eyes closing for a brief moment before giving him a tentative smile. He answered as though it should be obvious, "Because _you_'ve been sleeping here." The question _where else should I sleep? _remained unspoken.

"Oh" was the only response Erik could think to say, blinking owlishly. It was then that Erik realized he _had_ been sleeping more and more at the Chagny estate and whenever he slept at the opera house, Raoul was always there with him.

Outright smiling at him now, Raoul turned to kiss Erik's hand before laying back down.

Erik closed his eyes, taking a deep breath again; Raoul's solid presence was less burdensome than before.

o.o chest o.o (wc:787)

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 06

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: Fingertips gave me a major plotbunny of blind!Raoul, and can you imagine all the kinds of awesome that fic would produce? At that length, I could've made it its own story – yeah, 1000 is usually my oneshot minimum, but I decided it would remain.

'Chest' started out very different and wanted to be more of a oneshot as well, so I had to reconfigure it. It's more aww-worthy as is right now. Raoul all making Erik get used to his presence from now until eternity. :)


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.

Warning(s): slash (that's homosexual content for those of you who don't know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

o.o.o.o

Human Anatomy

Chapter 07

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Christine dabbed the cut on Raoul's lip none too gently.

Hissing, Raoul jerked away. "Be careful, Christine. That hurts."

She gave him an unimpressed look before grabbing his chin with her free hand to hold him still. "You brought this upon yourself. Now stay still."

Raoul frowned.

"Stop that, too." Christine pressed harder with the gauze. The alcohol stung, but his reflex to pull away was prevented by her grip tightening almost just as painfully.

He tried to school his features so that she wouldn't have a reason to hurt him any further. Christine was mean when she wanted to be, and his lip hurt a lot already. At least there didn't seem to be too much blood.

She sighed, pausing in her efforts to say, "You shouldn't have done that. I didn't tell you so that you would flaunt it in his face, Raoul."

He fought the urge to pout. "He's the one who's pretending." It came out more petulantly than he would've liked, but it was just Christine. She wouldn't mind if he acted a little childish right now. She _had _seen worse.

"And I remember telling you that he's not ready," she said exasperatedly. She dabbed his lip once more before sitting back, sighing. "I don't think he even knows this about himself yet."

Raoul looked at her suspiciously. "And you know, how?"

"I'm almost certain." Seeing him displeased with her vagueness, she added, "You don't see his expression when I talk about you." After a bit, she nodded firmly. "In fact, I _am_ certain."

Appeased in that aspect, Raoul focused on their current situation. He tenderly probed his lip. "How was I supposed to know he was going to punch me?"

"What did you expect?" She scoffed, "A hug?"

Raoul laughed at the thought and winced when his lip protested the motion. "No, I did not, but gentlemen do not use their fists in a dispute."

"You've never punched anyone?" Christine asked dubiously.

"Well," Raoul replied defensively, "I was in the navy. That doesn't count." He added quickly, "And you said he only ever really uses the Punjab lasso…"

"And since you saw he had none," she concluded, "you thought you were safe."

Raoul gestured vaguely. "He was the one who suddenly appeared."

"He was trying to prove a point."

"Exactly." Raoul pointed at her. "_Exactly._ And I was simply proving my own point. He needs to stop using you or else you may really get hurt one of these days."

She smiled at him patronizingly, already used to his penchant for trying to save damsels in distress. "And _you _would rather get hurt instead?"

"I'm not particularly fond of the idea of pain," Raoul shrugged, adding seriously, "but I do know that I don't want you to get hurt on my behalf."

"That's sweet, Raoul," she patted him on his head. "But smirking at him while yanking me out of his grasp and saying 'Leave her alone. We all know you really prefer blondes… and men' was not the proper way to go about it. What part of he's not ready do you not understand? You must have expected some sort of retaliation."

Raoul refused to reply. He _had_ expected retaliatory action and admittedly, he could have dodged that punch. What he _hadn't_ expected was the quick quirk of lips and wink from the infamous opera ghost before said punch.

He had a feeling that the ghost was more ready than Christine gave him credit for.

o.o knuckles o.o (wc:581)

Raoul tried to let Erik go at his own pace; truly, he did, but he was too close and he just barely kept from trying to help him along. So, even though his breaths were coming in shallow gasps, he tried to voice his urgency instead.

"I," he choked off, "need…"

Erik's hands weren't moving fast enough. This was however the first time he was doing something like this, so he couldn't be faulted. He was already holding up most of Raoul's weight, and the heat was smothering this close to him. The Vicomte, this trusting and so much at his mercy, was distracting in itself. He couldn't help but note his flushed expression and the fact that his eyes were nearly completely unfocused. He moved faster.

Through the rush of blood that pounded through his ears and the movement of Erik's hands, Raoul was distantly pleased to see that the ghost wasn't as unaffected by this as he'd been initially led to believe, and even though he'd been yelled at already for doing so, he finally couldn't suppress the urge when he fumbled, hands messily trying to help Erik along.

Erik let out a frustrated groan and batted his hands away. "Damnit, you fop. Just…" Raoul should've been happy that he'd managed to fluster the opera ghost enough that he was losing his ability to speak, but there was little else on his mind besides making Erik finish the task at hand faster. "I said I would do this."

Raoul moved his hands away as ordered. He realized that he'd never seen neither the ghost's face nor the porcelain mask this close before. He reached up, pressing the pads of his fingers on the lines of concentration on the ghost's forehead.

Erik's breath caught in his throat and for just a second, his concentration broke and his eyes flickered to meet Raoul's. The blonde's hands lowered and Erik was tempted to say something he knew he would regret later. Instead, he focused more intensely on the task at hand. His heart was racing and he could feel his own face flush in response though.

As he renewed his effort, Raoul glanced at him with half-lidded eyes, mouth ajar. Short panted breaths strained to come out, and for long moments, Erik became Raoul's entire world as all else blurred out of focus.

And when he felt awash in lightheadedness, Erik finally managed to loosen the final knot.

The noose unraveled, depositing a near unconscious Raoul onto the floor. Curling onto his side, he gulped as much air in as possible. His hands, tingling as blood began to circulate through his limbs again, gingerly touched his throat.

Erik was immediately on his knees at his side. Cursing at them both, he tried to roll Raoul onto his back so that he could see the extent of the damage. Raoul allowed himself to be turned, not having enough energy to fight against him.

Erik's hands were shaking as he tugged at Raoul's hands in order to see his throat. "How many times have I told you not to come?" There was going to be some deep bruising, and as Raoul flinched, Erik knew several rope burns as well. "Did you think I was joking when I told you I wouldn't remove any of the traps?" He raged, not caring that Raoul didn't seem to be listening. He was only glad to see him alive and breathing.

Through the nausea and inability to actually focus on Erik's face at the moment, Raoul managed to answer, "But you came and," he took a deep breath, "saved me though."

The weak approximation of a smile Erik realized he knew too well made him turn away, only to see the rope hanging above them. Of all the traps for Raoul to happen upon, why had it been this one? If he hadn't been nearby, hadn't heard the yelp of surprise, hadn't run…

o.o throat o.o (wc:656)

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 07

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: What's with me and asphyxiation? I think Erik's giving me a complex – him and his choice of weapon. :D Mentioned in both body parts actually.

But that second one is really deceiving. As for Erik's 'first time', you know he's unaccustomed to undoing a noose. And leaving it that hanging, I was going to continue with more, but figured I wouldn't know when to stop myself really.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.

Warning(s): slash (that's homosexual content for those of you who don't know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

S/N: This is a special edition human anatomy day. Why? Because I felt like it. :D

o.o.o.o

Human Anatomy

Chapter 08

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

It had been a poor excuse to start with. He'd sent more than a handful of people at death's door to their maker before they'd even been able to ask for mercy. Infirmed or injured, it hardly mattered when it came to his own survival; they needed to die. However, as much as Erik thought the lie transparent, Raoul had not realized it, and if the new array of scrapes he always arrived with were any indication, he would not recognize the lie for what it was any time soon.

Erik stopped playing the organ abruptly. The sudden silence highlighted the foreign sound of footsteps approaching. Now that his entire attention was on the sound, he would call it more of an uneven shuffle. He narrowed his eyes in the direction of the distraction, waiting for the Vicomte. There was no one else who would dare to come down here, much less injured.

His thoughts faltered when Raoul finally came into view. The blond was indeed limping and valiantly trying to hide it. What he didn't bother hiding was the cut that ran horizontal from cheek to ear on the left side of his face, not that he would have been able to hide it had he tried. The thin gauze covering it was already soaked through and left little to the imagination. It looked painful; the neutral expression on such an emotive man was indicative of just how painful it had to be.

Raoul raised his hand in greeting without a single change in his expression, not even a slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes. Then again, he never did smile anymore. Whenever he visited, he was merely contemplative. His eyes were almost always unfocused – only 'almost' because every now and then Raoul would really look at him and Erik would easily see the pain he tried to hide. Erik preferred to think of the pain as a mere byproduct of his injuries and nothing more.

Not bothering to greet him in return, Erik pretended to focus on the music sheets on the organ.

After playing a few bars, he asked, "What are you doing here again?" He couldn't stop himself from thinking that the wound would undoubtedly scar. Every time he saw it, he would undoubtedly remember what existed between them and who was to blame for their current situation.

Silence was his only response.

Expecting as much, Erik hadn't bothered to stop playing. Raoul never had an answer when he visited and now, the wound probably prevented him from speaking at all.

Raoul walked closer and the smell of alcohol assailed Erik's senses. He nearly shied away from how heavily it hung about the younger man. However, one glance at Raoul's eyes and Erik knew that he may have doused the wound with whiskey and had perhaps taken two fingers worth to drink for the pain, but he wasn't drunk. He'd probably tried to attend to his own wounds and ended up spilling it all over himself.

Erik fought down the urge to chastise him. It wasn't his place and would only reveal a concern that was not supposed to exist. If it did exist, they would never have gotten to this point. Still, the urge to kill him had long since been replaced by something he shied away from. Maybe it was that cowardice and Raoul's continued misunderstanding that made them suffer through these sporadic visits, unable to make them anything more than awkward coexistence and pained propinquity.

Raoul took his customary spot. The seat was several meters away from the organ, in a spot just at the corner of Erik's sight when he was focused on the notes before him. Erik, usually able to ignore everything when engrossed in the music, could never concentrate during these visits. Yet, at the same time, he could do nothing else but play and surreptitiously watch Raoul in his seat. And, that's exactly was it was, _Raoul's_. He wasn't sure when it had occurred, could barely remember bringing it out and placing it there, but that was undoubtedly its place in his home. Shabby and bloodstained but never dusty, it waited.

"When I said I'd spare your life only because you were bleeding, it wasn't an invitation to visit me whenever you lose a bar fight," Erik said acidly.

The notes of a faltering tune crept from the lower octaves of the organ to fill the silence. It grew steady through the unfaltering gaze on his form and harsh through the hour that passed until Raoul finally stood up.

"Be well."

At Raoul's words, Erik stopped playing, jaw clenching. He loathed that parting expression. They needed to return to trying to kill each other. Raoul needed to hate him, not wish him continued health and he definitely needed to stop caring for him. If he did still care… but there was no other explanation for these visits. Of course there would be no more verbal declarations of love; he had already destroyed Raoul's hope. Erik had already turned him down and broken him, disillusioning him from the merest of hopes that he saw him as anything other than a nuisance that he would kill given the proper opportunity.

Those parting words had cost Raoul and before he could turn to leave, Erik saw the blood trail, dripping down his cheek. Several drops fell upon the Vicomte's shirt and several more on the arm rest, diffusing through the floral needlepoint, darkening the already deep burgundy while staining the gold.

Erik stared at the stain bleed further out as he listened to the even more pronounced limp of Raoul walking away.

o.o blood o.o (wc:942)

Arms pinned behind his back, Raoul rose on his toes trying to relieve the strain on his shoulders. Erik tightened his hold on his wrists before lifting them higher.

"Damn it," Raoul fought back the yelp of pain. "Stop this humiliation at once." He struggled but only managed to hurt himself a little more. "Kill me and be done with it."

Raoul tried to glance over his shoulder but barely caught a glimpse of the man's expression. He wasn't sure if that would even help. Reading the ghost had never been his strong point. After all, he rarely was given more than a glimpse. Still, what he had seen had been enough to make him want more.

Even now, he wasn't sorry that his attentions had shifted from Christine. It was heartrending however to think that it had taken more than a month to build up enough courage to confess his feelings only to be rejected and manhandled in such a manner.

"Don't be dramatic, Vicomte." Any other time and Raoul's mind may have waxed poetic about the sound of the man's voice, but having been taken so lightly when he'd been ardent in his profession of love made his refusal ache more.

"Dramatic?" Raoul yelled and distantly realized his screaming probably wasn't helping matters. "The prospect of my affections for you so obviously disgust." He spat out, thinking of the grimace and revulsion that led the ghost to turn away. "I've been prepared to accept the repercussions of my confession."

Erik pushed him forward and Raoul actually did squeak in pain.

He cleared his throat. "But this is insupportable."

"Do not make assumptions, Vicomte," Erik growled, "The only reason I'm not killing you is because you're already injured and bleeding."

Erik pushed him forward again, finally releasing his arms. Raoul stumbled, catching himself against the hallway wall. He looked around, not quite knowing how they'd managed to make it this far.

"Any blood you shed when you die," Erik looked at the wound on his arm pointedly, "will be from me alone."

Raoul watched him leave, not quite able to quell the indignation he felt. It was easier to think of the embarrassing way he'd been treated than the fact that Erik had turned him down. He stood there a long while, breathing heavily and wanting to pursue and perhaps hurt the ghost for the injuries against his pride. However, when he finally did calm down, he couldn't help but wonder at their conversation.

o.o.o

"What exactly are you doing here?" Erik approached Raoul, noose in hand. "Do you think I make idle threats?"

Raoul lifted his hands, showing he held no weapon. "Wait."

Erik didn't pause.

"You promised," Raoul managed to get out just as the noose fell around his throat.

"I promised you nothing." He didn't tighten the noose though.

Erik had moved close enough in hopes of making Raoul uncomfortable with proximity before deciding what to do next. Instead, the blond shoved his hand right in front of his face. His eyes took a moment to adjust. At the edge of Raoul's hand, there was a pink line that ran across the middle of his palm. He looked at it for a moment before tilting his head to the side to look at Raoul's face.

The Vicomte looked at him innocently.

"A," Erik said slowly, "paper cut?"

Raoul nodded. "I'm bleeding."

Narrowing his eyes, Erik grabbed Raoul's wrist and jerked it away from his face. The noose tightened, Erik yanking it down with enough force to drop Raoul to his knees and leave him breathless.

Scrambling to pull of the noose, he ripped if from around his neck and threw it away from him. He rubbed his neck tentatively and noted that he'd missed Erik's departure. Alone in Box 5, he slumped against the nearest seat and couldn't help but grin to himself. He raised his hand to look as a tiny bead of blood formed from the cut.

He was quite certain the ghost never made idle threats.

o.o blood o.o (wc:672)

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 08

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: So, two versions of the same body part; not just that, the same idea actually but different tones.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.

Warning(s): slash (that's homosexual content for those of you who don't know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: Let's not do angst again so soon, right? So, I went towards the cracky side and managed to amuse myself.

o.o.o.o

Human Anatomy

Chapter 09

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Dinner that first night of their reunion had been pleasant despite Christine's initial protestations. However, they'd barely spent any time catching up on what they had been doing since their separation as children. Instead, their time had been spent talking about her angel of music.

Raoul had been skeptical at first, but it hadn't taken much to convince him that she was indeed visited nightly by an angel. He vividly remembered Msr. Daae, remembered the earnest way he lived his life, and if Monsieur Daae promised an angel would be sent, an angel would be sent to her. In fact, their conversation only served to remind him of the years _he _had spent waiting for his very own angel to appear. At the time, it had only seemed fair that everyone should have their own angel, much like the guardian angel his mother had spoken of when he'd been younger. So, he waited. Eventually, he came to realize that he would never meet an angel, much less have one to call his own, and the subsequent depression he'd fallen into was rather embarrassing to think of now.

Apparently, only Christine was special enough to warrant an angel. Raoul couldn't begrudge her for that though. Her father had died; it was small consolation that an angel had taken the place of such a loving father.

When they'd parted for the evening, Raoul could think of nothing else but angels for the rest of the night and the subsequent days. He wondered if all angels took the form of a man or spoke through mirrors like Christine had said. He was quite certain only angels of music could make her sing so beautifully. And, before he knew it, he was fixated on said angel of music.

It took weeks before he managed to summon the nerve to ask her to introduce them. He wasn't sure if it was allowed; perhaps, an angel could only appear to the one they were sent to protect and guide. Raoul hadn't been certain of the proper etiquette, but he knew he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't at least ask her.

It took even longer before Christine said, rather out of the blue since Raoul had resigned himself to never meeting an angel, that her angel would like to meet him. He hadn't believed her at first, but when she outright laughed at his incredulity and promised she wasn't lying to him, he'd nearly shouted for joy. Instead, he hugged her tightly, thanking her for even making his request much less allowing him to see the angel of music.

Now, left standing in her room alone while she was off with Meg, that excitement had been completely replaced with nervousness. He was going to meet an actual angel. His best clothes were perfectly ironed and in place, and he'd taken extra care to tame his hair. Everything had to be perfect. Staring at the door, he regulated his breathing as he ran through the list of rules Christine had given him before leaving.

"Do not light more than six candles. Do not approach him. Do not attempt to touch him. Do not ask about his appearance. Do not ask any questions. In fact, try not to speak much."

Raoul wondered exactly what he _was _allowed to do. He hadn't thought he could actually touch the angel, but speaking? This meeting would not last very long if he couldn't even speak with him. Would it just be a passing glance? Would they stare at each other for interminable moments while Raoul struggled to think of something he could actually do?

He shifted on his feet, glancing at his pocket watch. He had to strain his eyes to see the numbers, the room was so dark.

"Raoul."

Raoul whirled around. The thought 'he does sound like an angel' ran through his mind before he actually caught sight of the shadow near the full length mirror. It was a shadow indeed since from what little Raoul could see, the angel wore a cloak that covered his body with a hood that hung low over his face. He opened his mouth but could only take a shallow breath in. He wasn't sure if a greeting counted as speaking too much.

The shadow, the _angel_, moved forward with such grace that Raoul was left gawking at him. The creature gently took one of his hands. The rules of their meeting racing through his mind, Raoul could only think with mildly suppressed hysteria that he was touching an angel. He could only watch as the angel brought it up to his lips and kiss the back of his hand. He felt more than saw the smirk before the angel said, "Nervous?"

Raoul pulled his hand away abruptly before wiping his palms against his trousers in embarrassment. He couldn't help but retort defensively, "No."

The angel moved closer, and Raoul wondered what the repercussions were for lying to an angel.

"Are you scared?"

Standing his ground even though he found that he had to look up to maintain what he thought was near eye contact, he replied with more conviction – and a little more honestly – "No." He kept his hands pressed against the sides of his trousers.

In a low voice, the angel replied, "Good."

o.o palms o.o (wc:888)

"You." Erik glanced as Raoul waded to shore from the lake. "Again."

Shrugging, Raoul glanced down at his clothing in disdain. It was a sad testament to how many times he'd fallen or been tossed into the lake that he wasn't shivering violently. Turning his back to the ghost, he pulled off his shirt and began to wring it out the best he could. The pants stayed on, mostly because the one time he had tried to wring those out as well, Erik had taken that opportunity to push him back into the lake.

He mused at how far they'd come from that point. At least now, Raoul could tell that Erik wasn't as angry as he sounded. He actually sounded more resigned than anything, and during these last few visits, Erik had even been more accommodating to his presence, which in opera ghost parlance meant that they weren't trying to kill each other any longer. Well, Erik had been trying to kill him; Raoul had simply been defending his life.

It only made sense that Erik would eventually give in to his persistence, especially since they'd set fire to his home at least a dozen times already. There was definitely less damage in a less aggressive approach to his visits. In fact, he suspected Erik rather expected him to come despite the efforts the ghost made that said otherwise. In Raoul's opinion, their relationship was progressing rather well.

Erik began to gather the sheets of music he'd been working on, obviously going to move into a different room to better ignore Raoul. Several sheets fell to the floor.

Raoul crouched down with a grimace to pick a few of them up. When he stood up slowly, he noted Erik was staring at him with a smirk.

"Having problems?"

Immediately on guard, Raoul narrowed his eyes. "I'm fine."

His look of disbelief said enough, but the ghost still voiced, "You look a little stiff." Rather pointedly, he bent down to pick up the rest of the sheets, before standing with ease.

Raoul sighed and glared at him. "It's your fault. If you didn't insist…"

Erik smirked and began to walk away.

Affronted, Raoul followed him. "I'm talking to you…" Erik only walked faster. Calling after him, Raoul was distantly glad he could grimace without Erik seeing it because he _was_ still a little stiff and the half-jog he had to do in order to keep up was actually a little painful. "If I wasn't on my knees half the time, I wouldn't have this problem."

Erik paused, turning slightly to meet his eyes. Raoul was sorely tempted to physically remove that smirk from his face.

"You know our deal." Erik replied, "You don't have to be here."

"Our deal?" Raoul scoffed, and in a spur of the moment, he smacked the sheets of paper Erik was holding out of his hands. "There _is_ no deal. Just stop making traps where I end up crawling through tunnels." So much for a change in their relationship. "You, you... insufferable sewer rat," he huffed one last time before turning to leave.

o.o knees o.o (wc:518)

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 09

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: NervousFanboy!Raoul is kind of amusing to me. Knees simply amused me.

This was edited quite late, so please forgive any problems.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.

Warning(s): slash (that's homosexual content for those of you who don't know)

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: I'm in a disgustingly good mood right now. However, don't expect anything too serious right now (or good) particularly because the slight out of practice I am with writing E/R fics.

o.o.o.o

Human Anatomy

Chapter 10

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

"Alright." Raoul looked around to see if anyone else were around, which was rather unnecessary considering the fact that they were in the safety of Box 5. "I'll tell you."

He leaned forward to conspiratorially whisper to Erik his secret. So intent on making sure no one else was around, he failed to notice the way Erik tensed in response, his hands clutching at the armrests. Raoul took several breaths by his ear, a sensation that made Erik shudder almost imperceptibly, but then he suddenly pulled away, distancing them once again.

Erik let out a stuttered breath, even more tense now as he suppressed the impulse to simply pull Raoul to him. He didn't understand how someone could be so tempting yet absolutely oblivious to what he was doing. Erik had even gone so far as to consult Christine about Raoul's behaviour, but apparently, it was normal. Christine had similarly once harbored affections for the blond and for a while thought that Raoul had reciprocated, but later, she discovered that the thought had simply never crossed Raoul's mind. Erik was determined to make the thought cross his mind now.

"I can't. It's… " Raoul ran a hand through his hair. "It's not something I share."

Taking a steadying breath, Erik concealed his annoyance beneath the near-genial exterior he had worked hard to create in Raoul's presence. So far, it had worked.  
Raoul believed he was simply misunderstood and had even gone so far as to call them _friends_ – not exactly what he wanted, but it was far better than monster.

"I share much of myself with you, Raoul," he coaxed.

"That's not quite fair," Raoul replied, "Your talents are amazing. My talent is" he struggled to find the appropriate word, "useless."

"I would still like to know." The first step in his plan was to make sure Raoul trusted him. The unforeseen event that Raoul called him a 'friend' was actually beneficial because even though Erik himself did not know what friendship entailed, he knew that even Raoul had to recognize when that particular boundary was overstepped.

"Fine," Raoul pouted. He sat with his arm crossed, silent so long that Erik began to wonder if he was going to ignore him for the rest of the evening. Suddenly, he said, "I have a talented tongue."

At that, Erik froze in his seat. "What?" His attention immediately zeroed in on Raoul's mouth and the red tongue that peeked out of those smooth lips as Raoul grinned and showed him. After long moments of staring, Erik closed his mouth.

The playful expression disappeared quickly at his continued silence. Raoul averted his eyes, a light blush colouring his cheeks. "You're the first person I've told this to."

Erik was parts intrigued and aroused by his statement. Clearing his throat, he started, "What…? How…?" He honestly did not know what the proper response was; he did know confirming that talent for himself like he wanted to do was not it.

Raoul shrugged. "Oh, my tutor when I was younger taught me and practice of course."

That intrigue he'd felt was quickly consumed by jealousy. His mind tumbled over questions he didn't know what order to ask. How old? How many men? Exactly what was he practicing?

Before he could voice any of them, Raoul eagerly turned to him and leaned forward again. "Would you like me to show you?"

Taken aback, Erik could only nod dumbly as even the jealousy disappeared, his heart racing at the offer.

"Okay." Raoul gave him his most charming smile.

Erik leaned forward.

And Raoul said, "Un ange qui songeait à changer de visage se trouva soudain si changé que jamais plus ange ne songea à se change."*

Erik stared at him. "What did you say?"

Suddenly less sure of himself, Raoul slouched a bit, eyes on the floor between them. "I told you it was a stupid talent. My tutor said I had an aptitude for tongue twisters. Maybe I said it wrong?"

Erik stood up abruptly enough to startle him. He looked at the Vicomte for a long moment. Could Raoul really be that dense? Raoul only looked up at him in confusion. Erik opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. Not even sure he could pretend to reassure Raoul that he'd said it perfectly, Erik bit out, "I must go." He was certain that he would take what he wanted from Raoul if they spoke any longer.

He left before he could see the disappointment evident when Raoul lifted a hand weakly and said, "Oh. Tomorrow then?"

o.o tongue o.o (wc:763)

Raoul watched them together and even he couldn't deny that they complemented each other perfectly: light and dark, forceful and willing, demanding and gracious. Where one was weak, the other was strong. Even Erik's compositions had grown more gentle almost as Christine had grown more determined. They balanced each other perfectly. Christine's delicate laugh, petite form leaning against the organ as Erik, serious as ever, through the notes he played alone demanded the best of her – and he _could_ draw from the bottomless well of talent Christine had within her when Raoul had only floundered to let her fly.

Yet, even with so much disparity, Erik and Christine shared more similarities than Raoul would ever be able to with either of them. They'd created a world of their own filled with music and a beauty that he could never truly be a part of despite their words, despite his wants. Christine, dear Christine always insisted that he needn't worry about his affections coming to naught. She loved Erik, but not in the same manner that Raoul did. Even with her reassurances though, it did nothing to assuage his fears. Love was love, and Erik was rather indifferent to his presence. He was merely tolerated. After all, their utopia, so isolated from everyone and everything, was made for two.

As he sat, having long since dropped the pretense of occupying his time, he watched them interact. It was cruel. It was cruel to allow him these glimpses of the life they shared, proof that he was simply extraneous. He scoffed softly to himself. If anything, he was the serpent that would lead Erik and Christine to their demise. He would end up being the one to throw them out of such harmony, and it finally occurred to him that he couldn't do that to them. He couldn't destroy their happiness when they had gone through so much to obtain it.

He had to leave; his mere presence was dangerous to them. Not bothering to hide his longing, he continued to watch them a little longer, his mind going over the next steps. It would be best to do so secretly, to leave without telling them why or else Christine might attempt to stop him. And, despite the fact that he usually waited for Christine to finish her lessons, he doubted they would notice if his presence was missing. He quietly departed Erik's home, the surprisingly soothing melody leading him out.

He was halfway to the rooms when someone grabbed his arm.

"Where are you going?"

"Erik?" Raoul turned, glancing down at the arm Erik had yet to release. "What are you doing here? Christine's lesson isn't done."

"Where do you think you are going?" Erik asked, inscrutable as ever. The meager light in the tunnel cast severe shadows across the older man making him look even more austere than normal.

Raoul glanced over his shoulder to see if Christine was behind him. He couldn't quite understand why Erik would leave in the middle of the lesson. "I have some business to attend to." It was a sentence he knew he would be using often now that he'd made up his mind to leave them be.

"Do not lie to me."

"How would you know if I'm lying?" Raoul retorted more angrily than he meant to. It was simply that while he spent all his time watching Erik, had studied him enough that if anything, Raoul would know when _Erik _was lying, Erik only ever watched Christine.

"Your schedule is free until this afternoon," Erik restated.

Raoul slumped ever so slightly. How stupid of him to think it was because Erik might think he knew him. No. It was the Opera Ghost's duty to be aware of everyone within the opera house, the patron included. "Just leave me be."

Erik's grip on his arm tightened in a nonverbal response.

Gritting his teeth, Raoul straightened, disappointment turning to anger because somehow he still managed to hope. "You win already," he said bitterly, not trying to disguise it as anything but, "You and Christine can have your Eden." How had he ever thought that Erik and he could have been more than enemies, that Erik would ever see anyone other than Christine? "I will no longer intrude."

He tried to turn and leave with some dignity still intact, tried to leave before Erik saw how much it pained him to admit this particular defeat, but Erik still refused to release him.

"The metaphor you make is a faulty one." Erik stated.

Raoul refused to look at him at all. He focused on the bruising grip on his arm instead as he stared blankly into the darkness.

"I am no Adam, she no Eve," the masked man continued. He spat the words out and began to crowd Raoul enough that he had to take a step back. "There is no domed sky, no night and day, no beasts nor plants that could possibly survive here."

Despite the fact he had taken another step back, Raoul responded just as heatedly and with a touch of condescension, "It's not meant to be taken literally about your home, Erik."

Erik's voice softened the slightest as he said more to himself than Raoul. "It is as true for my home as it is for Christine and my relationship." He started advancing on Raoul again, voice harsh enough that Raoul was certain physical violence was soon to follow. "You've followed us ever since the masquerade. You haven't left Christine's side and every time you are near, you stare. You stare at her, but most of the time, you stare at me. Did you think I would not notice?"

Raoul's back hit the wall and he floundered for a moment, but Erik's grip was firm.

"You've driven me to distraction."

"What? I haven't," Raoul tried to defend. How could he possibly have distracted Erik? Certainly, he knew he'd been a nuisance those first few weeks when all three of them had been on edge, trying to find how they could possibly all coexist. After that though, Erik and he had no occasion to speak to each other, so Raoul had remained silent through it all.

"You've made me see you, hear you every day for months." Erik released his arm, and Raoul had tried to take the opportunity to get away, but one hand clamped down on his shoulder and the other moved from his arm to his stomach, pushing him more firmly against the wall.

The air was forced out of Raoul's lungs, and he took that moment to wonder when Erik had ever watched him.

Erik sneered, "And now you think you are going to leave?" He laughed at the concept.

Raoul cringed when it sounded like madness echoing back at them as the residual laughter faded.

"You are not allowed to leave because you are mine." Erik was close enough that Raoul could feel his breath on his face. "_I_ will decide when you leave."

Wishing that he hadn't watched Erik enough to know that the man meant every single word he had spoken, Raoul struggled. He managed to push himself off the wall a bit, but he was simply slammed back against the wall, Erik's hand digging into his lower ribs.

"If anyone was made from me, for me, it would be you."

o.o rib o.o (wc:1,226)

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 10

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review:

Tongue - well, according to the internet, that should be a French tongue twister. The internet could be lying to me of course. It translates to:

*"An angel that dreamed of changing its face suddenly found himself so changed that never again did an angel dream of changing himself."

Which is why Erik's not only disappointed but pissy when he leaves because that quote hits too close to home right now. Worst tongue twister ever to choose, Raoul. XD

Rib – I guess I'm a liar. This turned out way more serious than it started. Blame Erik. He's insane. And sorry for all the religious references (who knows if Raoul or Erik is religious). I don't know why the concept just came to me. Generally, God made Adam after he'd created the world and taking a rib from Adam, God made Eve for him.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.

Warning(s): slash, character death mentions (major angst ensues), spoilers to Unmasking the Chains

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: We know that when I can't concentrate on what I'm supposed to do, I end up updating this. Good? Maybe. But, the La Belle et La Bete chapter (4) simply needs to be edited. (I say 'simply' despite the fact that editing usually takes the longest for me.) But really… we need more E/R fics. Why isn't it being produced? Although I did see something being posted today. :( Still, this is hardly the exit from fandom I had planned.

Story Note: You may want to only read the first part (it's lighthearted) if you're looking to avoid major angst (emo!Erik). There are spoilers to my fic Unmasking the Chains. Read the warnings. It's applicable (it should always be applicable).

o.o.o.o

Human Anatomy

Chapter 11

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Raoul hesitated at the mirror that had been left ajar in Christine's room. Erik was waiting for him and Christine had insisted.

'Insist' was too polite a word. There had been embarrassingly true stories bandied and threats doled out. In fact, he had been _coerced _by Little Lotte, and that thought alone would have made him turn right around and leave the room if it weren't for the fact that Little Lotte had never actually lied to him, and if she said that anecdote of his swimming trunks and that stray seagull would somehow be spread, then it would be.

Raising his hand to the level of his eyes, he strode forward into the cool darkness. Only a few torches had been left to light his way.

It wasn't as though he was the one being unreasonable. He had given Erik his answer and he was well-acquainted with the fact that the opera ghost did not deal with rejection well. Who knew how he would react even though the contents of his letters stated that he was in fact not angry, simply impatient to continue their discussion. Raoul had nearly scoffed upon reading such a euphemism. What Erik called a discussion, Raoul called an argument of grand proportions.

Admittedly there had been no 'accidents' – Raoul rather called them tantrums – that was usually the best means to decipher Erik's moods, but it had only been a day since his refusal. Erik was bound to cause some sort of destruction to the opera house soon. Either way, it was easy to seem composed through a letter. It meant little to Raoul. The man had a skull wax seal after all and still refused to sign his letters with anything other than, 'Your obedient servant, O.G.'

The amorous attentions had been nice, and Raoul _had_ allowed himself to revel in it. It might also explain why he was so easily giving into such coercion now. He might have even returned some affection. According to Christine, he had returned a reciprocal amount of affection, but she was wrong. Raoul was not obsessed with Erik. He didn't know the older man's schedule, didn't scare his friends away, nor did he leave him flowers – except for that one time, but that was a different situation entirely. He was too much of a gentleman to go to such lengths. Although, Erik _tried _to be a gentleman – Raoul was fairly certain Christine was coaching him – but their current situation wasn't about his odd behaviour, his quirks, or who loved the other more. It wasn't about _them_ at all.

He hesitated at a cross-section. Left or right? He hadn't been paying as much attention as he should have been. Both were similarly lit, so that held no clue. Taking the moment's indecision to switch arms so that his left was raised instead, he picked arbitrarily and walked down the left tunnel.

Truthfully speaking, such awkward, unreserved possessiveness had only managed to endear him further to Raoul. It wasn't as though Raoul did not love him, and apparently he was transparent enough that even Christine knew that much. It was just that Philippe wasn't getting married any time soon and that left him with the duty to produce an heir, to keep the Chagny lineage continuing. It was the least he could do for his brother, who'd taken up the burden of heading the family so long ago.

He had tried to explain it to him at the time, but Erik had simply refused to listen to anything beyond Raoul saying he couldn't possibly consider continuing their relationship for much longer, much less indefinitely.

The noose that fell around his neck caught on his arm as the precaution had intended. It tightened quickly. His hand pressed against his cheek, and despite the fact he should have been able to pull the noose free by raising his arm, all he managed to do was raise his arm so that his face was pressed in the crook of his elbow instead of his hand. The rope caught on his elbow, crossing his face and digging into the base of his skull.

He tried to yank the rope free with his other hand, but Erik caught his free wrist easily enough and turned him so that they were face to face in the semi-darkness. Raoul technically could only see parts of his mask and the lower part of Erik's face because of the rope.

"You came." The pleasure in his voice was easy enough to hear, although the smirk was what spoke volumes.

Raoul was still struggling to release the noose, not making much progress considering Erik still held his other wrist and, Raoul stared, he still held the other end of the Punjab lasso.

"Well?" He said, annoyed.

Erik only chastised, "Stop fussing."

Raoul considered struggling harder simply to be contrary, but decided to listen to him just this once. He stopped trying to remove the noose, but the only thing Erik did was pull the rope down a fraction so that Raoul had an unobstructed view of his masked visage.

His arm was beginning to hurt, not to mention the fact he knew he must look like a fool in such a position. He hadn't come here to be ridiculed. Snapping, he asked, "Did you ask me to come here to take my head?"

Erik pulled him closer and Raoul could almost swear his smirk softened enough to be considered a smile, an amused smile that gave him the impression that Erik knew something he didn't. "No. I have come here to take something else." He held Raoul's gaze pointedly as he released his wrist and reached up to pull the suddenly loosened noose from his neck, only breaking eye contact for the barest of seconds.

Raoul was tempted to close the distance between them as he lowered his arm, but somehow it felt inappropriate despite the fact that they were far closer now that the noose was gone.

As though to coax away the pain he had caused, Erik took his hand, raising it to his lips to press a single kiss on the back of his hand. Raoul could only stare into those familiar eyes, and it seemed as though he _could _say yes, that the only right thing to do was to acquiesce.

The moment was broken however when Erik slipped something on his finger.

Raoul glanced down to see a plain gold band. He shook his head, pulling away from Erik. Moving to take it off, he muttered, "I can't. I told you…"

"Don't."

How that one word arrested his movement, Raoul did not know, but the ring stayed.

"I'm only asking you for forever."

Erik's conviction that forever was as simple as saying yes made Raoul hurt. He could only shake his head again and stare as he pulled the ring up before repositioning it properly. He pulled at it again and Erik reached out to push it back down. It took him a moment to realize that they were wearing matching rings.

"I _would_ say yes. I would give you forever if I could…" Raoul was tempted to ignore everything else in the world, but there was too much at stake. It was his family. Saying yes would be too much of a betrayal.

"I already spoke to your brother," Erik said suddenly.

Raoul was certain he had heard him incorrectly, but scrutinizing Erik's expression, he knew it was no lie. He jerked his hand away again, this time for a different reason. "You what?" His exclamation echoed in the tunnel.

Erik tilted his head slightly, and Raoul feared it wasn't a sign of feigned confusion.

"You didn't. Tell me you didn't. Please." He begged. He hadn't told Philippe anything about their relationship yet. How did Erik even get to him? It had only been a day since his refusal and Philippe had left early yesterday morning.

"Asking your kin for permission to propose," Erik stated, obviously repeating someone else's words, "is of utmost importance and must be planned accordingly."

Raoul's mouth hung open as he realized exactly what that meant, as events he'd simply labeled as unimportant clicked into place. Philippe coming home one evening flustered before proceeding to lock himself in his room. His brother's inquiries to Christine, to his happiness, to the opera house. His most fervent and sudden declaration that Raoul be who he wanted to be.

"How long ago?" He managed to croak out, his mind unable to pinpoint the exact date that first event had occurred.

Instead of answering his question though, Erik kissed the back of his hand again, openly smirking at him. "Can forever begin finally?"

o.o finger o.o (wc:1,449)

I kept my promise, the one you misled me into making.

How you could ask this of me, I know not. It is a cruelty I would have never associated with you, but perhaps I should have expected it. We have always been similar. We share the same scars, the same fears, the same loyalties, but you… you had been the best parts of me. The man I believed myself capable of being died along with you. Nothing remains but the phantom, a broken animal, not even a man, who has lost all but this sole promise.

This heart of mine, it still beats. It beats for you and only you. Can you hear it call your name?

_Raoul_.

I love you. I forget at times if the words ever crossed my lips – if when you were alive, the words could have ever formed so simply.

I don't think I did. I don't think they would have.

_Raoul_.

I want you. I need you. We are meant for each other. I love you. These sentiments colored my every action since the moment I first truly saw you, but it is only the latter statement that needed to be spoken aloud to be truly understood. I've said it so many times now that it feels as if my whole life has been spent telling you this, just waiting for you to respond again.

_Raoul._

I love you is a promise. Did you know that?

It's a promise that the year after you say the words, you will be there to prove it. Maybe even less than a year, the day, the hour, the _minute_ after saying those words, you will be there to say it again and somehow mean it even more.

_Raoul._

I think I miss you. This feels unlike anything else I have ever experienced. The knowledge of you has saturated my every thought and breath, and I am held forever waiting.

_Raoul_.

It is as if my whole body has been suspended in expectation. I'm forever held at the moment before our eyes met, before our hands touched, before our words reached each other. _Just_ before our lips caressed. The very necessity to ease the tension, to somehow close the gaping distance that lies between us now is so strong it drives me further into despair.

_Raoul_.

At times though, I am convinced that it is not the moment before.

It will be and has always been the moment _after_ that truly matters. That one single moment after you had given me everything I had ever desired in my miserable existence, after all that and _you_ fell through my grasp.

It must be after because I can still feel the brush of your lips. I can feel your hand against my arm, your body within my embrace. And you hold me in return, tightly enough that it makes me think you never really wanted to go. Or maybe that's my own desire. Maybe _I_ am holding onto you more than I should. Though, never tight enough.

But, there is no one else to hold. No one else who matters any longer. No opera house, no managers, no Christine. There hasn't been for a long while now.

_Raoul._

Sometimes, I am certain I hear your voice, a faint murmur. Resigned – whether to love me or leave me, I am uncertain. But I wish you would stop saying the words I want to hear because it makes it worse when I look over my shoulder and you are not there. And at that moment, I have to destroy something, anything within my grasp. I rage against you, against my failings, my _self_. I hate and despise and love you all in the same breath, left to destroy things, mere trifles, because I cannot destroy myself.

This shell must further wait in the expectation that you will be there, and all I can bitterly think to myself is this.

_Raoul, my love_.

Don't make promises you can't keep.

o.o heart o.o (wc:666)

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 11

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review:

Finger – That's sneaky, Erik. Truly sneaky. It's a little jumbled, right? In terms of events. But hopefully not too jumbled. Erik's apparently getting better at feigning innocence.

Heart – Ouch. I'm too dramatic at times. I know. But, at least I'm making Erik suffer in this one instead of Raoul. :) Is that even a consolation? Erik's too OOC in this, but I like to think that he has in fact become just a shell after losing everything and then being forced to live on. (It was going to be a oneshot, but this way I don't mislead any of you into thinking that it's the third part of the Masked Series. It's not, and it's too short anyway – although I do admit, I aimed for 666.)


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.

Warning(s): slash

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: Semi-liberal use of the semicolon as the super comma it is.

o.o.o.o

Human Anatomy

Chapter 12

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Having just fled from rooftop, Erik nearly tore through his home in frustration. That small sojourn had actually managed to accomplish the complete opposite of clearing his mind from the nonsense that had been plaguing him lately. He had always considered himself most affected by his auditory sense. Lurking in the shadows, out-of-sight did not lend itself well to being visually dependent. Sight, even as good as his was, was useless in the darkness or behind walls. Such sensitivity had quite a practical application; the slightest auditory hint would have him searching for an individual.

He had memorized all their footfalls, the cadence and heaviness of their strides: rapid and hurried like Andre, light and scurrying as much of the ballet corps, or the click and swish of Carlotta's parade.

Beyond mere footfalls though, their voices were quite telling, and no intelligible words were necessary since those rarely carried through many of the opera house's walls: yells punctuated by claps, Monsieur Reyer; conspiratorial whispers, crescendoing to bursts of speech, Buquet; the screams that followed, his audience; and the still quiet voice, melodious without trying, Christine.

Then, there were the various other noises that comprised the opera house: the thump of Madame Giry's cane, the tapping of the conductor's baton, the sounds of rope through a pulley, or metal grating upon metal. It was bothersome at times to be so aware, to so often turn his attention from the task at hand. But, knowing the distance of said annoyance was a skill in itself to warn against approaching threats.

Lately, there had been a shift, subtle at first, as sounds took secondary importance. Scents evoked a stronger reaction, drew his attention even further than distraction and into the realm of fixation as it generally served no practical purpose whatsoever. Erik believed he could pinpoint the moment the shift from auditory to olfactory occurred.

It was a fact that people learned silence around him in an effort to avoid his detection. Not many actually succeeded, but Raoul was quite the apt pupil. Annoyingly enough, Erik was no longer able to hear Raoul's approach or his presence at all. The blond easily maneuvered his opera house, was able to come and go as he pleased. Erik had often been forced to hear secondhand when the viscount had stopped to speak with the managers or Christine. But while his ears betrayed him, the faint hint of sunlight and freshly cut grass was unmistakable. He recognized the traces of the outdoors, of someone who climbed in and out of carriages all day and took strolls in parks, of someone who was inclined to complain about how others spent too much time underground. Truly, there was no _one_ distinct odour, but a mixture, an impression; to breathe Raoul's scent in was to breathe in the life that was moving around him.

While this newfound ability had a purpose, if only to be able to detect Raoul's presence, its usefulness unfortunately stopped there. The merest scent of roses made him search for Christine. The overpowering floral perfume made him avoid a hallway simply to avoid Carlotta even if she was no longer present. The aroma of fried food alerted him to Piangi's whereabouts throughout the day. The scent of talcum powder was often left in the wake of the ballet corps and unsurprisingly the managers. But those distractions were easily avoided; enough attention and he could continue his circuit through the opera house without lingering thoughts of the owners of said scents. He could avoid them well enough, barring one exception, an individual who was proving himself to be an exception to many a thing.

No matter where Erik was or what he was doing, he could not escape him. Even now, the smell of water by the lake reminded him of the persistence of a certain blond who had unhesitatingly used the lake to get to him. The smell of candle wax brought with it images of Raoul refusing to move about his home without a lit candle firmly in hand, of lingering visits, of faces close but not touching as they argued over minutia of some contract late into the night. The musk of sweat, the alcohol of aftershave that was still faintly apparent on his own clothes drew him into minutes, no, _hours_ of distracted contemplation of him.

How could he even begin to stop thinking about Raoul when every other scent made his presence ghost across the fringes of his thoughts?

o.o nose o.o (wc:748)

Raoul leaned against the base of one of the horse statues on the rooftop. He sighed, holding the rose he'd found in Christine's room. Along with it, there had been a message for her to meet here. He tugged the black ribbon loose, and just as he had thrown away the note, he flung the rose aside with a flourish. The ribbon, he placed in his pocket.

"You!" A familiar voice boomed. The force of his voice was enough to make even Raoul's heart skip a beat even though he'd been waiting for the man to show. It was good to know that even ghosts could be predictable.

Playing up the idiotic viscount, he looked around in confusion before focusing on the main rooftop entrance, even though he well knew that the ghost would never use it. He had a vague idea of where the ghost was. "Who is that?" He took several steps towards the door just to hide his amusement as he raised his voice to ask, "Is someone there?"

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard the thump of someone landing from a jump down one of the statues. Raoul briefly wondered exactly where the trap door was and how many ways to exit upon the roof there were. He had to admit that he was fairly impressed by the many different routes the ghost seemed to know when it came to navigating the opera house. Even though his own knowledge of those pathways was growing daily, Erik still managed to keep Raoul on guard. Not knowing when and where the ghost may appear was always dangerous, but he liked to think that he, too, had some tricks up his sleeve.

"Opera Ghost?" Raoul tilted his head in confusion. "There's a door there?"

It was surprisingly easy to see the older man's eyes narrow even with the mask obscuring half his face.

"Stop playing the fool." Raoul opened his mouth to deny it, but Erik interrupted him, "You play the witless fool rather well. I'll give you that, but you forget I watch you all the time."

Raoul couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. He quickly lowered it. Widening his eyes, brows a little furrowed, he said rather convincingly confused, "I thought you only appeared in Box 5? Or onstage?"

Erik took a threatening step forward, and Raoul didn't bother to pretend to cringe. This was hardly the first time they were speaking face to face, and as good as he was, even Raoul knew the act would only work for a short while. In fact, he was surprised he'd managed to fool the ghost as long as he had. However, this lack of fear could also be attributed to the senselessness he often portrayed.

The ghost glanced at the discarded rose on the floor not too far away from them before glaring at the impudent boy. "What are you doing here?"

"I am waiting of course." Raoul tilted his head slightly and said as earnestly as he could manage, "Christine left me a note that said to meet her here." He struggled not to outright smile when Erik scrutinized him, clearly questioning if he _was _in fact that dense.

His contemplation did not appear to go so well because the ghost eventually spluttered, "_She_" he paused, hand coming up to ball into a fist, "left a note" another pause, and this time, Raoul was certain he could see the ghost's eye twitch. "For _you_?" He punctuated the sentence with a finger quite near Raoul's face.

"Yes," Raoul nodded in confirmation. He feigned confusion at Erik's reaction. "Did she tell you to meet her here as well?"

Erik opened and closed his mouth too angry, too baffled to even manage a single word. He took a deep breath in, held it, and suddenly stalked away.

Rather disappointed with his reaction, Raoul watched the man walk away. He had been hoping that the ghost _would _realize that it was all an act. Normal attempts at garnering his attention had failed; these 'accidental' encounters had solved that problem. For every problem solved, however, another arose. Or, more accurately, the same problem arose, Erik's love for Christine. Perhaps it was indeed as much of a lost cause as he'd first thought, even if lately, it seemed as though he had been making progress. Forcing his frown away, Raoul stood up straighter. "Oh," he said as though an epiphany had come upon him, "Had that note not been from her? Or for me?" With less gusto at performing his role as the oblivious patron, he continued, "My apologies. I shall go fetch her."

The door had barely opened a fraction when it was pushed closed. Raoul turned to find Erik crowding his space. He frowned in honest confusion, at the sudden change. He was further annoyed to discover that the ghost was slightly taller than he. Still, this turn of events was proving more promising by the second.

"Ghost?" he questioned, on the edge of dropping all pretense.

One hand still pressed against the door, Erik used his other hand to almost gently wrap around Raoul's neck. He scowled when Raoul only tilted his head back to give him better access.

"I would break this little neck of yours," Erik leaned close, head dipping forward as he breathed in. It took him a moment to refocus, "I _would,_ without hesitation save for the fact that you said you were not in love with her."

Raoul could not help but grin, and in response, Erik's hold tightened slightly, just enough so that Raoul could distinctly feel his own elevated pulse, feel the blood struggle to get by. He was fairly certain a response was unnecessary; he gave one still, "I am not." Attempting a shrug, he added, "Not with her at least." Turning his head slightly, he looked away from the ghost. He waited in hopes that the ghost would ask with whom.

There was no reaction, and Raoul wondered just how much more forward he could be. Or perhaps, he needed to try a different approach entirely.

Eyes narrowing, Raoul said blithely, "Lust _is_ much more appealing, but I find it bland without the thrill of love."

He had barely finished his statement before Erik crowded him a little more, close enough that when Erik sneered "Really?" Raoul felt more than heard it.

Turning his head that slight distance back, he met Erik's eyes and waited to see if he was going to move away from such a close proximity. When the masked man didn't, it was tempting to just close the distance between them. Instead, Raoul reached up to place his hand atop of Erik's on his throat. The hand twitched beneath his. Without once breaking their gaze, Raoul trailed his fingers across the back of his wrist, hand, and the bony fingers. His thumb brushing against Erik's knuckles, the rest of his fingers caressed the inside of his wrist, and the ghost's grip loosened considerably.

"I am actually not in love with anyone right now," Raoul whispered, conspiratorially. He quirked another smile, "But," he looked away for a moment just to raise Erik's hand from his throat to place a single kiss to the inside of his wrist, where his fingers had been caressing just moments ago. He made sure to meet Erik's eyes again as he added, "I _am _open to persuasion."

o.o wrist o.o (wc:1,238)

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 12

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: I find 'nose,' w/e. It's better than when I first started, but it's still w/e to me.

And yes, 'wrist' is that other fic where Raoul seduces Erik. I told you it was similar. Except Raoul uses cluelessness instead of innocence in this one. And he's a lot more straightforward. I actually think he's way more aggressive in this one than in the other one, as though in Walk the Walk Raoul hadn't realized he's been attracted to Erik wherein this one, he completely knows he is. I don't know why I'm discussing this here. DX But, now that I think about it, 'wrist' could be what happened before 'nose' but not quite. There are some discrepancies between the two stories.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.

Summary: ErikRaoul various degrees of slash. One word prompts based on body parts, most parts but the one you really want.

Warning(s): slash

Pairing(s): ErikRaoul

A/N: Wow, it's been a while since I last did one of these. I think I'm running out of body parts. Either that or all my plotbunnies have now simply become LROH related. DX

o.o.o.o

Human Anatomy

Chapter 13

o.o.o.o

By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

"Yes," Raoul whispered, trying not to break either of their concentration.

Erik hadn't known what to think when the viscount suggested that he _teach _him this activity. Even though his doubts had almost compelled him to reject the offer, he had not taken into account just how he could forgive such presumption if it meant that he Raoul would be draped on him in such a manner or that he could, in turn, be touching him this much. Touching Raoul was proving to become one of his most favourite, if not most rewarding, pastimes. His hand drifted away from where the viscount had directed.

"You aren't paying attention." Raoul caught his hand.

The breath that warmed Erik's neck and the husky voice were more of a distraction than his own thoughts had been.

"Hm," the younger man twisted slightly, "Move your hand here. Hold it tighter."

Erik smirked, knowing that they were too close to each other for Raoul to see it. He dragged his hands much lower than he had directed, which earned him a yelp and a glare.

They lost their rhythm.

"Erik," he said warningly, no longer bothering to whisper. "You said you would let me guide you."

"You insisted on _teaching _me," Erik replied, but he dutifully placed his hands exactly where Raoul wanted them. He kissed the younger man slowly, loving the slow burn it always set in him. "So, teach me."

Raoul pulled away breathlessly and manhandled him into place since he was clearly not cooperating. "You're not… Ow!" He pulled away a fraction.

Erik only shrugged in response to his glare. "I told you I do not perform as well when I'm being told what to do."

"That's because you're intentionally being difficult," Raoul retorted.

"I am not," he tried to sound affronted, but the unamused look sent his way told him he was fooling no one.

Raoul's patience was running thin and Erik knew he needed just a little more provocation before he abandoned this particular endeavor. There were better ways of spending their time than Raoul teaching him _anything_. He lied, hoping to lull him into a false sense of security, "I want to do this. Trust me." He let Raoul position them just as he wanted them to be. Erik even let him hold his hands in place.

"Just…" Raoul bit his bottom lip, "You need to relax."

"I am relaxed," Erik replied even though he was hardly trying.

"I," he was breathless from exertion. They _had _been at it for a while now. "Yes, almost-"

They almost moved in unison then and Erik almost decided to let Raoul have his way just this once, especially when he sounded like that. He desperately needed to see his face, but the younger man was more focused looking down.

Then Raoul ruined everything when he said, "We should do this more often."

Erik intentionally locked his knees and Raoul nearly fell over him. He refused to spend another afternoon in this position.

"Good Lord!" Raoul yelled, stepping gingerly away from him once he regained his balance. He let go of Erik's hands, scowling. "You deliberately made this a painful experience."

"Not entirely deliberate," Erik said slowly. He knew he was going to pay for that comment. Surely Raoul was going to angry with him for a while, which meant that touching him was going to be impossible for quite some time, or at least until he calmed down.

"If you hadn't wanted to do this," Raoul pointed out, "then you shouldn't have agreed."

"At the time," Erik replied reasonably, "you had been quite convincing."

Crossing his arms, Raoul stated gravely, "This is important to me."

"I already know how to," Erik replied condescendingly.

"You need to learn," the blond repeated, adding pointedly, "with a partner."

The masked man retorted, "Who says that I haven't learned with a partner?"

"With a live one?" was the immediate reply.

Erik looked away. He scowled, saying once more, "I _know _how to dance, Raoul." Of course he knew. It did not take a genius to learn steps.

"The pain currently in my feet would beg to differ." Raoul looked down. He was certain Erik had intentionally stomped on them more than once.

Erik held his arms up. "I prefer to lead."

Raoul stared at him in disbelief. He scowled and said, "You can lead yourself in a dance. Alone."

o.o feet o.o (wc:733)

The sudden cry of pain only made Raoul run faster, almost slipping when he turned the corner so quickly. He had just been exiting the building when Christine ran into him, breathless and begging that he help. From what he had gathered, someone with a knife was trying to rob another resident of the opera house.

So, he didn't think twice when he saw a still form on the floor and said robber with a knife looming over him, obviously going for a second attack. Raoul dove for him, grabbing at the hand with the knife. It was messy and reckless, and he was more than a little lucky that he hadn't inadvertently gotten stabbed, but it was effective. The element of surprise had been on his side. The knife went clattering down the street and Raoul was able to get a few good punches in before the man pushed him off and scrambled to his feet in order to race down the street without a second glance over his shoulder.

Pleased with himself, Raoul glanced at the poor victim whose head was bowed as he clutched at his leg.

"Monsieur," he crouched beside him, "Are you…?"

It was only then that Erik looked up, mask too obvious now that Raoul took a moment to look for it, and the question simply died as he remembered that he should not care if he were all right. The concern was a sign of too much dependence in Erik's mind.

Instead, he stood up jerkily and said with clear displeasure, "Oh, it's you." He affected a general unconcern but furtively perused him to see if there were any life-threatening injuries that the opera ghost was hiding. All he could garner was a wound on his leg; Erik would have stood up by now had he been well and he would have stopped clutching at it. He looked up and down the street and saw no one else approaching.

He was doing a poor job of leaving Erik alone if he was running into him outside of the opera house as well, albeit the fact that this was directly outside the building. He could feel Erik glaring at him, so he did not try to conceal his frown. He wondered if Erik truly expected him to leave him alone like this. He did find the timing odd for this little scuffle though, that Christine would run into him right as he was leaving. "Was this some ploy Christine set up?"

Instead of responding, Erik attempted to stand. He failed the first time and Raoul tried not to openly watch him struggle. The wound was either really painful or simply really inconvenient. Knowing Erik, it was the latter. Raoul didn't think that Erik had any limit to the amount of pain he could ignore.

The older man huffed before using the wall of the opera house to assist him in standing up. Once on his feet he answered, "That is a stupid suggestion." Disdain was obvious in his voice. He continued snidely, "Do you also assume she cut my leg for effect?"

Once brought up, Raoul stared at his leg openly. The pant leg was hanging loosely; even still, blood had soaked the material. He was worried, certainly, but he knew his help would not be appreciated right now. As much as he felt badly, he really wanted to gloat. Finally making eye contact, he commented, "So, my presence isn't so irksome right now, is it?"

Erik glared but did not move.

Raoul was starting to suspect that he _couldn't _walk away in his current state. He did have to wonder what had brought the opera ghost out of the building in the first place. He doubted that the robber had gone _into _the building and dragged Erik out.

"The better question would be if _you _planned this," Erik retorted.

"Me?" Raoul pointed at himself, utterly confused at the accusation.

"Do not act innocent with me." Erik scoffed, "After all the things I've done to you, innocent is the last trait I would associate with you."

He barked out a laugh and chose to ignore his response since it proved very little. Raoul _was _innocent in this respect. "You think because you insulted me, I paid a man to assault you?"

"I do not see why not," Erik replied, and Raoul knew it was not a lie. It was simply another aspect of Erik's mindset that Raoul would never truly understand. When he continued though, Raoul felt himself becoming defensive. "That Chagny pride of yours can be quite potent."

"Chagny pride?" Raoul scoffed, "You're the one currently bleeding to death and not asking for help."

"I do not need help," the masked man bit out even as he remained where he was.

"Okay, then." Raoul turned to leave. He was only three steps away when he stopped. He did not turn to face Erik, simply took several deep breaths to calm himself. He eventually muttered, "You are bleeding to death."

Erik answered just as matter-of-factly, "I am."

Several moments passed and Raoul counted his breaths. He was about to reach twenty when Erik spoke again.

"Are you going to help me or what?" he ordered gruffly.

When Raoul finally turned to look at him once more, Erik was slouched against the wall, hands on his leg as he tried to put pressure to slow the bleeding. He tried not to roll his eyes at the injured man but failed. Luckily, Erik was more concerned about his leg. Pulling his scarf loose from his neck, Raoul knelt beside him. He batted away Erik's hands and wrapped the scarf around it tightly and tying it off.

"That will have to do for now," he commented more to himself. The wound was thankfully a rather clean slice, no tearing, but it ran quite a length down his shin. Seeing the scarf secure, Raoul ducked under one of Erik's arms and wrapped an arm around his waist to support him.

Erik was simply staring at him though.

"Well?" Raoul asked, "It would be best if we fix this in your home."

Silently, the masked man leaned on him to begin walking towards the entrance he used. Raoul did not mind the silence; he could not help but ask though, "Why were you out here?"

The brusque answer came quickly, "Talking with Christine."

The answer obviously meant that he would prefer not to speak further about it. "Okay," Raoul shrugged, an action that Erik felt more than anything.

Erik's hand tightened on his shoulder and Raoul tried to coax him to lean on him further. Despite what he obviously thought, Raoul was a man and could very well prove how strong he was. He could handle his own welfare and make his own decisions.

"I had not meant to question your," Erik pointedly would not look in his direction, "masculinity by pointing out your over-dependency."

Raoul scoffed, "That last bit would have been better unvoiced if that was meant to be anything related to an apology."

Erik noted that to himself silently.

"But –"

"Obviously having others around is necessary," Erik cut him off. He, however, mumbled to himself, simply because he could not help it, "At times."

"Did it ever cross your mind that I simply sought your opinion for all those things because I wanted to include you in my life?" Raoul retorted heatedly.

The silence that followed was a loud enough 'no' to Raoul. Erik seemed to relax a bit at the statement though, his body finally truly accepting Raoul's assistance.

o.o shin o.o (wc:1,265)

o.o.o.o

End Chapter 13

o.o.o.o

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!

Chapter review: Too choppy. I know, but I couldn't get it to flow properly. I apparently need more of a build up to get it to be anything remotely good. (Either that or I'm simply not as enamoured with these plotbunnies as I should be. I discarded several before settling on these ones and I still didn't like them much.)

Feet – that last bit at the end where Erik assures he's danced with someone kind of amuses me to an absurd degree. (I can picture him practice dancing with the Christine mannequin… you know, because he _was _trying to seduce her. One of his plans had to include dancing of some sort.)

Shin – Hero!Raoul is heroic. ;3 Although the very thought of Erik thinking anyone 'overdependent' seems absurd, I was thinking it in relation to him feeling smothered. He may want someone around, but actually having someone do so would ruin his day-to-day living. I find him to be a routine kind of person and add someone in there to mess it up and he'll become angry.


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Human Anatomy  
#: 14  
Author: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
Pairing(s): Erik/Raoul  
Summary: One word prompts based on body parts, most parts except for the one you really want.  
Warning(s): slash  
WordCount: ~2,000  
Rating: T

A/N: Trying out a new heading. I usually try to keep it to whatever the first chapter was, but it's starting to annoy me when I have to crosspost to livejournal. Hopefully it'll be easier to read and find what fic you're looking for. I'm not sure how much I like it yet though.  
Storynote: I actually don't feel completely dissatisfied with how these two turned out. Not completely.

o.o.o.o

In an effort to hire the new trombonist that the opera ghost had demanded, Raoul commandeered the managers' office intent on reviewing the necessary documents. Andre and Firmin had been intentionally delaying the process despite having found an exceptional young musician, unwilling to let the ghost think they were doing it because he had ordered them to. It made no sense because obviously, the previous trombonist had been fired almost immediately after they had received the threatening letter. Sometimes, Raoul was certain that the managers were actually quite brilliant because he almost always did their work for them.

Someone cleared their throat, which was odd since Raoul was certain he had locked the door. Looking up from the documents, he frowned. "It is you again." Past the masked man, the door was closed, and he was certain it hadn't been opened.

"Such an astute observation!" Erik nodded in faux eagerness. He leaned on the desk across from the viscount. "Surely the scholars are seeking your audience at every turn."

Raoul hung his head and sighed. "I know…"

Erik raised his hands toward the heavens, "You _know_ something, too?" Quickly, he turned to rifle through the papers on Andre's desk. "I shall mark the date and hour posthaste."

Slamming his hands on the desk, Raoul surged to his feet. The chair skidded back by the force and the sound garnered Erik's attention enough that he ceased his search for a pen. Raoul could feel his face heat up. Through clenched teeth, he said, "I am aware that Christine told you."

"Oh," Erik smirked, "what did she tell me?"

Even the porcelain mask seemed to mock him despite its blankness; the sheer force of the older man's derision managed to influence even inanimate objects. It was still easier to focus on the mask, if only to avoid seeing the obvious pleasure Erik received from his discomfort. He glared and the bridge of his nose wrinkled; Erik grinned wider in response. The older man wanted nothing more than to goad him further just to see that expression.

"Stop mocking me." Raoul barely stifled the urge to stomp his foot. It would have been undignified.

"That shall definitely never happen."

"I know it will never happen!" He shouted, angry at himself for his momentary weakness. Rather, he was angry for all the weaknesses Erik seemed to inspire in him. "I know I shouldn't have these feelings, shouldn't verbalize them much less tell Christine them. But I do and I did and it's too late." He was breathing hard by the end of his outburst. He didn't feel any better for having yelled it though. Ever since learning that he harbored quite the opposite of hatred for the ghost, Erik had been downright insufferable, finding every opportunity to bring it to his attention.

"I did not mean 'never' in regards to that," he said in an uncharacteristically subdued voice.

"What?"

Annunciating each word, Erik stated, "I will never cease mocking you."

Raoul had almost hoped. He stared at the desk where the documents were currently strewn after his violent motion. He'd given himself a deadline to finish it before the day was out, but now he knew he would have to amend that because he would get no more work done today. He walked around the desk, intent on bypassing Erik to leave the room but the man was quick to block his path. He took a step left and Erik mirrored him; a step to the right garnered the same result. "Surely there are dark corners you could be haunting."

"Wait." Erik held up his hand, head tilted towards the door. Raoul leaned forward in an attempt to locate whatever sound Erik had heard. "Did you hear it?"

Raoul shook his head. He could hear nothing; so, he turned his ear more toward where Erik seemed to be indicating.

"Was that an almost witty comment from our dearest patron?"

Raoul huffed, straightening immediately. "Why must you continually insult my intelligence?"

"Because you have yet to show me any sign of it," Erik replied, arms crossing in front of his chest to mirror Raoul once more. "I must therefore assume that the space between those delicate ears of yours is empty." He reached out and flicked his ear and Raoul twitched, hand immediately coming up to protect it from further abuse. A blush was already forming though.

"I shouldn't have told Christine," Raoul reiterated. It was the only thing he could think to say. Had he not told her, then he would never have had to endure this torture.

Erik shook his head. "That would hardly have mattered. You are entirely too transparent."

Raoul gasped, "You _knew _already?"

He hadn't, but he didn't voice it. His lip curled in disgust at himself because the blond _had _been transparent. He shouldn't have needed Christine's gossip to find out, but he had been willfully blind.

Raoul took his silence to mean the affirmative and mistaking his expression to be a reaction to the thought of his affections, he attempted to defend himself, "I tried to stop liking you."

"And that is why I question your intelligence," Erik responded.

"Look." He continued indignantly, "Some of us cannot help the way we feel."

"It's not in the emotions," Erik retorted immediately, "but rather in the execution."

"What would you have had me do?" Raoul asked, desperate for an answer. He had tried everything he could think of to stop his feelings.

"Stop pitying yourself. You have everything in life. You have no right."

Raoul, frustrated that he could do no right with the man, looked away and pouted.

The older man continued, "I would dislike you less if you did something bold. At least then you'll have lived a little despite the outcome."

"So," Raoul stared at a scuff on the floor, mulling over Erik's words. There was a certain bit of wisdom in them, a desperate sort of wisdom that he wouldn't have expected any less from a ghost. "You think me not only stupid, but a coward."

"Yes," Erik answered slowly, "that does make for a concise summary."

Raoul was desperate at the moment. Tired, desperate, it was the same for him right now. He simply knew that he could leave this room frustrated and angry or he could leave this room with at least one exceptional memory even if it was to be his last. Erik was just there, staring at him like for all the world he was daring Raoul to be bold, and he couldn't find a reason to disappoint the masked man. He grabbed his collar and mashed their mouths together. His nose was badly abused by the impact with Erik's mask and they'd banged their teeth in his haste, but Raoul felt the man's lips, chapped as they were, irregular and puffy on the right side, quirk up in a grin just as he pulled away. Shocked at himself but more at the fact that the ghost was smirking at him instead of trying to hang him, he just stood there. Despite the smirk, Raoul thought he saw a bit of surprise as well and he liked to think pleasure, too.

"That," Erik said much too self-satisfied, "is the first intelligent thing you've done since you got here."

o.o brain o.o (wc:1216)

Through slitted eyes, Erik saw the butler take the blanket and picnic basket from Raoul's arms. They had necessarily been _taken_ because the young man was focused entirely on him, very near hovering around him worriedly. His hands would flit towards him in aborted motions, the fear of causing him more pain apparent. It would've been more endearing if Erik could have spared it a second thought.

Once they were in the shelter of the house, he headed directly for the sofa and dropped onto the cushioned seat. Head cradled carefully in his hands, he sighed, grateful that he could now squeeze his eyes shut without having to worry if he would run into something. In his mind's eye, he could see the worried look Raoul was currently giving him. It was the same look that he'd had when the headache had first started. Erik was currently in no condition even to consider trying to assure him that he would be fine given time. His head felt as though it would split open at any moment; _he_ was uncertain if he would be fine.

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, one on the socket and the other on the mask, but the growing pressure at his temples and behind his eyes was not going away. Thinking hurt and yet he could not shut his thoughts as easily as he had his eyes. Even without his eyesight, he could track Raoul's movements through the room. Every footstep and breath was stabbed into his skull as though awareness was a weapon wielded against him vindictively. He wanted to yell at him to stop moving but the act itself would've been more painful than letting Raoul go through the room closing all the curtains. He knew it was for his benefit, but even the rustling of the curtains made him want to cringe.

And then, Raoul was leaving the room, leaving him to suffer alone and pain was joined by indignant anger. It was considerably quiet now, but even the silence was too loud and his supposed lover had abandoned him at the first sign of weakness. He curled tighter over his knees, blaming Raoul entirely for this turn of events and cursing him for his desertion.

Raoul did return shortly, but it was too late. Erik refused to acknowledge him.

The sofa moved slightly when Raoul sat at the edge. "C'mere," he whispered.

Erik pointedly ignored him.

"Really," Raoul placed a hand on his shoulder, "Come here."

Erik lifted his head slowly; he felt as though it would simply flop over without the effort he put in keeping it straight. He barely opened his eyes; the dim light was a godsend compared to the sunlight that had lanced pain through his head.

Raoul coaxed him to lie down so that his head was pillowed on his lap. The new angle was disorienting and made his vision overcompensate and the room spun before he settled on shutting his eyes once more. Still, it felt as though he were tilting, somehow falling head over heels even though he was lying down.

As though he knew Erik was struggling, Raoul suggested, "Lie on your back instead." He put a warm hand on his back, rubbing small circles.

Erik leaned into the touch even as he said warningly, "Raoul." The rest of the threat petered out because that single word had caused a wave of agony to move from the back of his head to his eyes. He tensed, unwilling to move lest it aggravate his head further, though a distant part of him wanted to simply claw at his eyes. The hand on his back continued making small circles. Only when he was fairly certain the pain had plateaud did he let Raoul help him turn. He wouldn't admit that it helped; instead, he covered his face once more, finding the only relief in the added pressure of his hands on his face, in pressing his mask against his face.

"I'm sorry." Raoul's voice was low, not quite a whisper but soft in an obvious effort to be considerate. Fingertips trailed up his throat and into his hair, pressing firmly into his scalp. Erik groaned as his headache eased slightly, almost ready to forgive Raoul for his previous departure. Instead of continuing, those hands were prying his hands off his face. Raoul removed his mask, which earned him another groan, this one displeased, but Erik could do nothing more than mentally curse him.

"Shh." Raoul ran the back of his hand gently down Erik's face as though in apology for having to remove the mask.

A cool damp cloth was placed on Erik's forehead and Raoul began to rub circles on his temples. It was better than the massage on his scalp and Erik melted down onto the couch with a deep exhale. The coldness of the cloth seemed to loosen a band of tension from around his head and Raoul fingers helped keep it at bay. His mind remained blissfully quiet, glad to focus on the feel of Raoul touching him so tenderly.

He was almost drifting off the sleep when Raoul commented softly, "We'll never go on another picnic again."

Erik would have argued the contrary. He had groused the entire time and refused to sit the first five places Raoul had wanted, but when they had finally settled on a location, he had appreciated how excited and pleased had Raoul looked. He liked how the younger man had dressed casually and how he looked beneath the sun, glowing with a light of his own. He loved that despite all the beauty of nature around them, Raoul had only ever looked at him.

They could have a picnic again, he wanted to voice, but the escape from the lingering pain beckoned him and he fell asleep.

o.o temple o.o (wc:977)

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
FicReview:  
Brain: Erik's kind of a jerk, although I do like him goading Raoul into action (only because he's too much of a coward to make the first move himself). I really kind of like horrible first kisses. It gives them a reason to try again. ;3 (-sigh- This started as a wc:600 ficlet.)

Temple: It's like Erik's allergic to the sun – although I find myself getting migraines when I'm in the sun for any period of time too, so I'm sure living mostly underground or indoors much of his life plays only a small role in the affliction. I was forced to write it completely in Erik's POV because the mixed POV was just awkward.


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